E 

302.6 

P5 


*?* 


DISCOURSE 
C,W.  Upham 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

DAVIS 

GIFT  OF 
GEORGE  A.   FLEMING 


" 

. 

DISCOURSE, 


DELIVERED 


ON  THE  SABBATH  AFTER  THE  DECEASE 


OF    TffE 


HON.     TIMOTHY     PICKERING 


BY  CHARLES  W.  UPHAM, 

JUNIOR     PASTOR     OF     THE      FIRST      CHURCH. 


Salem : 

FOOTE  &  BROWN:::::::COURT  STREET. 

1829. 


LIBRARY 


FOOTE    &   BROWK,    PRINTERS, 

Salem  Gazette  Press. 


SERMON 


PSALM  xv. — 1,2.  "Lord,  who  shall  abide  in  thy  tabernacle?  who  shall 
dwell  in  thy  holy  hill  ?  He  that  walketh  uprightly,  and  icorkcth  righteousness , 
and  speaketh  the  truth  in  his  heart." 

IF  there  is  anyone  virtue,  which  awakens  a  more 
profound  admiration  than  all  others,  it  is  integrity, 
residing  in  the  inmost  heart,  and  manifesting  itself 
throughout  the  whole  life.  There  never,  in  any 
community,  civilized  or  uncivilized,  was  a  system  of 
morals,  whether  ascertained  by  positive  description, 
or  existing  only  in  general  public  sentiment,  in  which 
integrity  has  not  been  placed  among  the  highest  of 
the  virtues.  There  is  an  instinctive  emotion  of  ad 
miration  and  of  reverence  in  the  most  uncultivat 
ed  and  even  in  the  most  depraved  hearts,  whenever 
this  sublime  attribute  is  manifested  or  mentioned. 

I  would  appeal  to  the  student  of  classic  history, 
and  ask,  whose  character^  in  the  long  catalogue  of 
the  great  and  wise  whose  names  are  recorded  there, 
is  contemplated  by  him  with  the  deepest  and  purest 
satisfaction  and  admiration.  He  will  answer,  if  his 


judgment  is  guided  by  correct  and  elevated  princi 
ples  of  moral  taste  and  discernment,  "  ARISTIDES," 
the  Grecian  patriot,  whom  the  people,  in  a  moment 
of  folly  and  madness,  banished  because  he  was 
"  Just" — because  he  did  what  he  thought  to  be  his 
duty,  no  matter  how  unpopular  might  be  the  act — 
because  he  uttered  what  he  thought  to  be  the  truth, 
no  matter  how  many  might  be  offended.  The  pass 
ing  generation  of  the  small  community  of  which  he 
was  a  member,  injured  and  calumniated  him,  and 
rejected  him  from  the  midst  of  them,  but  he  held 
fast  his  integrity,  and  would  not  let  it  go,  and  his 
name  is  hallowed  in  the  admiration  of  the  countless 
millions  of  all  subsequent  generations. 

In  the  first  chapter  of  the  Gospel  of  John,  we 
find  a  brief  notice,  in  the  simple  and  characteristic 
style  of  the  sacred  writers,  of  an  interview  between 
Jesus  and  a  man  named  Nathaniel.  He  is  men 
tioned  but  once  more  in  the  Scriptures,  and  then  in 
such  a  manner  as  to  inform  us  incidentally  of  the 
fact  that  he  was  a  fisherman  on  the  lake  or  sea  of 
Tiberias.  A  few  lines  contain  all  that  is  known  to 
man  of  the  humble  individual,  who  thus  painfully, 
and  in  an  obscure  calling,  gained  his  daily  bread  by 
his  daily  labor.  But  these  lines,  few  and  simple  as 
they  are,  contain  a  eulogy,  the  highest  and  best  to 
which  man  can  aspire.  "  Jesus  saw  Nathaniel 
coming  to  him,  and  saith  of  him,  Behold  an  Israel 
ite  indeed,  in  ivhom  is  no  guile."  These  were  the 
words  of  him  who  knew  what  was  in  man,  and  com 
ing  from  him,  they  convey  an  encomium  the  value  of 
which  can  neither  be  questioned  nor  estimated. 


The  memory  of  the  poor  Israelite  whom  they  des 
cribe,  will  be  cherished  and  honored  wherever  in 
tegrity  and  sincerity  are  honored.  And  all  men  in 
every  age  have  honored  them.  The  more  the  world 
is  advanced  in  a  knowledge  of  sound  principles,  and 
in  the  cultivation  of  moral  sentiments,  the  greater 
will  be  the  honor  paid  to  these  virtues ;  and  the 
time  will  surely  come,  if  it  has  not  already  come, 
when  the  praises  of  kings  and  warriors,  and  of  men 
of  every  other  description  of  renown,  will  be  poor 
and  insignificant  when  compared  with  the  declara 
tion  which  Jesus  made,  when  the  humble,  but  up 
right,  fisherman  of  Galilee,  approached  him.  "  An 
Israelite  indeed,  in  whom  is  no  guile." 

Our  text  describes  such  a  man  as  was  the  heathen 
Aristides  and  the  Jewish  Nathaniel,  and  it  declares 
that  such  a  man  shall  abide  in  God's  tabernacle 
and  dwell  in  his  holy  hill,  shall  enter  the  abodes  and 
partake  of  the  joys  of  Heaven.  Let  us  examine  the 
description  which  it  contains  of  a  man  of  integrity, 
of  sincerity,  and  of  honor — a  man  in  whom  there  is 
no  guile. 

"  He  that  walketh  uprightly. "  In  this  clause  we 
are  presented  with  the  definition  of  a  character  and 
life,  which  are  established  upon  the  principles  of 
virtue,  and  upon  a  sense  of  duty.  The  man  who 
always  acts  and  speaks  and  moves  under  the  gui 
dance  of  the  rules  of  a  high  morality — who,  in  every 
step  which  he  may  be  called  to  take,  instead  of  con 
sulting  his  selfish  interest,  temporary  expediency, 
worldly  customs  or  principles,  worldly  applause  or 
censure,  inquires  of  his  conscience,  and  his  God — 


6 

is  it  right  ?  And,  if  they  answer  in  the  affirmative, 
moves  fearlessly  on,  to  do  or  to  suffer.  This  man 
"walketh  uprightly." 

"  Worketh  righteousness."  This  expression  im 
plies  not  merely  good  and  upright  conduct,  but  ac 
tivity  in  the  performance  of  it.  The  man,  whom  the 
Psalmist  would  describe,  is  one  who,  by  industrious 
continuance  in  well  doing,  renders  himself  useful  and 
valuable  in  society — who  is  ever  actuated  by  an 
enlarged  and  benevolent  zeal  to  promote  happiness 
and  virtue — whose  hand  is  ready  to  be  put  forth  in 
every  good  enterprise — whose  time  and  faculties  are 
steadily  and  strenuously  devoted  to  beneficial  em 
ployments — who  is  willing  to  make  exertion,  and 
takes  delight  in  making  it,  to  relieve  the  suffering, 
defend  the  defenceless,  arid  reward  the  worthy — 
who  constantly  strives,  while  providence  permits 
him  to  dwell  on  the  earth,  to  promote  the  great  ob 
ject  of  its  administration,  by  faithfully  and  earnestly 
exercising  all  his  energies  in  every  direction  in  which 
they  can  usefully  be  put  forth.  This  is  the  man 
who  "worketh  righteousness." 

"  And  speaketh  the  truth  in  his  heart."  This  is 
the  last  point  in  the  character  described  in  the  text. 
It  implies  that  strict  veracity  is  observed,  that  nothing 
but  truth  is  spoken.  But  it  implies  more  than  this. 
It  requires,  when  taken  in  connection  with  the  pre 
vious  clauses,  that  the  truth  should  ahvays  be  spok 
en — that  even,  when  selfish  considerations  would 
prompt  to  silence,  there  should  be,  not  merely  a 
willingness,  but  a  disposition  to  declare  and  defend 
the  truth  without  regard  to  private  expediency,  or 


fear  of  personal  consequences.  The  man,  who 
comes  up  to  the  description  of  the  text,  will  always 
feel  within  him  an  original,  positive  and  urgent  im 
pulse  to  bring  forward  his  testimony  and  counten 
ance  in  favor  of  the  true  principle,  and  the  righteous 
cause  ;  he  will  feel  that  the  Divine  Being  has  com 
manded  him  to  promote  and  sustain  on  all  occasions, 
under  all  circumstances,  that  truth,  which  proceeded 
from  him  as  from  a  fountain,  and  which,  by  the  min 
istry  of  his  faithful  and  fearless  children,  is  at  last  to 
have  free  and  wide  course,  and  be  glorified  through 
out  the  earth. 

He  who  merely  abstains  from  aiding  in  giving  cur 
rency  to  what  is  false,  does  not  do  all,  nor  the  best 
part,  of  his  duty.  He  must  come  forward  and 
speak  out  the  truth,  or  what  he  thinks  to  be  the 
truth.  He  must  give  utterance  boldly,  and  without 
reserve,  to  his  own  honest  opinions,  or  he  cannot  be 
considered  as  having  discharged  his  whole  duty  to 
his  fellow  men,  or  to  Him,  who  called  him,  by  the  gift 
of  reason,  to  the  sublime  pursuit  of  truth — who,  when 
he  kindled  the  light  of  intellect  within  him,  ordained 
that  it  should  shine  around  him  upon  others.  If 
there  were  not  so  much  timidity  and  indifference 
among  good  and  enlightened  men  with  respect  to  the 
prevalence  of  truth,  if  all  were  disposed  openly  and 
fearlessly  to  express  their  sincere  opinions,  the  pub 
lic  sentiment  of  every  community  would  be  far  more 
sound  and  correct  than  it  now  is,  or  ever  has  been, 
and  the  cause  of  truth  would  receive  an  impulse 
which  it  has  never  yet  felt  among  men. 

The  expression,  "  in  the  heart,5'  has  an  important 
meaning,  and  must  be  carefully  taken  into  consider- 


8 

ation.  It  determines  that  it  is  not  required  of  a  man 
to  maintain  or  to  speak  the  actual,  abstract  truth, 
but  the  truth,  according  to  his  apprehension  of  it. 
If^  after  an  honest,  fearless,  earnest  and  diligent 
exercise  of  his  faculties  upon  a  subject,  he  ar 
rives  at  a  certain  result  concerning  it,  and  declares 

,  that  result,  even  if  it  be  not  the  actual  and  abstract 
truth,  still  it  is  truth  "  to  his  heart"  and  he  speaketh 
the  truth  in  his  heart. 

The  character  described  by  the  Psalmist,  we 
have  now  seen,  is  that  of  a  man  who,  in  all  his  con 
duct,  is  governed  by  a  supreme  regard  to  principle 
and  duty,  who  industriously  and  earnestly  exercises 
his  faculties  upon  useful  and  benevolent  designs  and 
employments,  and  who  zealously  seeks,  at  all  times 
and  under  all  circumstances,  to  sustain  and  advance 
the  cause  of  truth.  Such  a  man  he  says  "  shall 
abide  in  God's  tabernacle,  and  dwell  in  his  holy 
hill."  Heaven  is  his  portion,  and  he  is  secure  of 
the  favor  and  blessing  of  his  Creator  and  Father. — 
In  this  world  he  may  suffer  tribulation,  but  "  he 
cannot  be  moved."  There  is  a  virtue  that  goeth 

i  forth  from  his  example  and  his  memory,  and  when 
death  shall  have  spent  its  power  upon  him,  he  shall 
be  raised  in  honor  and  in  glory,  and  be  transported  to 
a  world  where  eternal  rewards  shall  be  conferred 
upon  truth  and  virtue,  and  there,  in  the  bosom  of  his 
God,  he  shall  dwell  forever  beyond  the  reach  of 
change,  and  suffering,  and  sin. 

We  need  not  be  troubled  therefore,  my  friends, 
when  the  just  and  upright  die.  It  surely  will  be 
well  with  them.  We  have  a  promise  resting  upon 


9 

the  word  of  God  that  they  are  pleasing  in  his  sight, 
and  that  an  entrance  shall  be  ministered  unto  them 
into  the  kingdom  of  Heaven.  How  glorious  is  the 
reward  which  is  thus  assured  to  the  pure,  and  just, 
and  upright  !  and  what  a  rich  consolation  is  given 
to  those  from  whom  such  are  removed  ! 

To  us,  my  friends,  is  this  consolation  given — and 
we  all,  at  this  moment,  can  appreciate  it.  The  infi 
nitely  wise  ruler  of  the  universe  has  removed  from 
the  midst  of  us,  an  honored  and  venerated  member 
of  this  congregation  and  church.  He  was  pure, 
just,  and  upright.  He  was  a  man  "  in  whom  was 
no  guile" — during  a  long  life  he  "  walked  uprightly, 
worked  righteousness,  and  spoke  the  truth  in  his 
heart."  Let  us  be  comforted,  therefore,  by  the 
blessed  assurance  that  he  will  "abide  forever  in 
God's  tabernacle,  and  dwell  on  his  holy  hill." 

It  is  well  known  to  you  that  it  is  not  my  custom 
to  invade  from  this  place  the  private  sorrows  of  be 
reaved  families,  by  any  particular  allusions  to  the 
causes  of  their  affliction.  Consolation  is  best  ad 
ministered  to  the  hearts  of  mourners  in  those  private 
and  domestic  retirements  where  their  loss  is  chiefly 
felt.  There  is  a  tenderness  of  sensibility  in  the 
bosoms  of  the  sorrowing,  which  shrinks  back  from 
public  exposure.  Yet  I  cannot  but  feel  that  the 
present  is  an  occasion  which  demands  a  departure 
from  the  principle  which  usually  governs  me.  If  when 
a  great  and  good  man,  whose  life  and  character  have 
ever  illustrated  the  principles  of  virtue  and  religion, 
whose  example  of  integrity  and  duty  if  presented  to 
the  community  would  surely  inspire  a  love  and  admi- 

2 


10 

ration  of  its  own  excellence,  and  whose  influence  has 
always  been  given  to  the  promotion  of  those  ends 
for  which  the  pulpit  has  been  erected — if,  when  such 
a  man  dies,  and  the  whole  community  is  mourning 
his  loss — the  pulpit  does  not  improve  the  favorable 
opportunity  to  impress  upon  all  a  deep  sense  of  his 
virtues,  and  thus  excite  a  desire  to  imitate  them,  it  is 
false  to  its  trust.  I  therefore  beg  the  indulgence  of 
those,  to  whom  this  our  severe  bereavement  has  car 
ried  the  keenest  affliction,  while  I  attempt  to  dis 
charge  (would  that  more  strength  were  given  me  to 
discharge  it),*  the  duty  of  my  office,  by  presenting 
to  you,  my  friends  and  people,  and  urging  upon  your 
imitation  the  virtues  of  that  great  man  who  has  just 
fallen  in  the  midst  of  us. 

Our  country  has  lost  one  of  its  purest  and  most 
patriotic — one  of  its  most  honored  and  useful  citi 
zens — but  his  character  will  ever  remain  among  its 
richest  treasures.  This  ancient  town  has  lost  one 
of  its  most  active  and  virtuous  inhabitants — but  his 
name  will  forever  be  written  high  among  the  highest 
in  the  catalogue  of  its  illustrious  sons.  This  church 
has  lost  one  of  its  most  worthy  and  devout  members 
— but  never,  never,  while  memory  remains,  shall  we 
forget  that  venerable  and  dignified  form — those 
noble  features,  upon  which  our  eyes  have  delighted 
to  look,  when  assembled  here  to  commemorate  our 
Saviour,  or  to  worship  our  God. 

If  this  were  the  place,  or  the  occasion,  I  might  re 
hearse  to  you  his  honorable  and  brilliant  career   of 


*This  discourse  was  prepared  in  great  haste,  and  while  the  author  was  suf 
fering  from  indispositiou. 


11 

public  service  and  usefulness,  from  a  period  long 
anterior  to  the  American  Revolution,  through  all  its 
scenes  of  blood  and  suffering,  and  in  stations  of  great 
public  trust  and  importance,  since  the  commence 
ment  of  the  government  of  the  nation,  almost  to  the 
day  of  his  death.  He  not  only  served  faithfully  this 
his  native  commonwealth  and  the  nation  at  large  in 
the  general  government,  but  his  name  stands  among 
the  fathers  and  founders  of  another  commonwealth, 
one  of  the  largest  in  the  union.  At  the  time  of  his 
death  he  was  among  the  last  surviving  members  of  the 
convention,  which  framed  the  present  Constitution 
of  the  great  State  of  Pennsylvania,  and  his  zealous 
exertions  procured  the  insertion  into  that  instrument 
of  the  all-important  article,  the  object  of  which  was 
to  secure  to  the  whole  people  of  that  commonwealth 
the  blessings  of  education,  by  a  legal  and  certain  pro 
vision  for  the  gratuitous  instruction  of  the  poor.  But 
I  must  not  allow  myself  to  enter  into  an  enumeration 
of  his  great  and  various  public  services.  That  has 
been  done  by  others  elsewhere,*  and  the  cause  of 
truth  and  justice  and  virtue  imperiously  requires 
that  a  full  and  thorough  delineation  of  his  upright 
and  illustrious  life  and  character  should  be  transmit 
ted  down  among  the  historical  treasures  of  future 
generations.  His  venerable  image  will  be  preserved 
in  the  hearts  of  his  countrymen.  His  worthy  exam 
ple  will  shed  a  guiding  and  cheering  light  upon  the 
years  that  are  to  come,  and  a  high  place  will  be  as 
signed  him  among  the  descendants  of  the  Puritans 
and  Pilgrims,  and  among  those  noble  and  fearless 

*  See  Appendix. 


12 

men,  who  by  their  great  actions  and  services  ren 
dered  their  own  age,  the  heroic  age  of  their  country. 
Our  venerable  and  honored  friend  possessed,  and 
through  life  exhibited  virtues,  which  it  well  becomes 
us  to  commemorate  in  this  place,  and  aspire  to  in 
all  places.     I  can  only  glance  at  some  of  the  most 
striking  traits  of  his  character.     He  was  distinguish 
ed  for  the  native  simplicity  of  his  heart  and  man 
ners.     This  characteristic  is  especially  worthy  of 
notice  when  we  consider  the  high  rank   w?hich  he 
held  among  the  distinguished  men  of  the  nation, 
the  dignified  places  he  had  occupied,  and  the  wide 
space  which  his  reputation  has  filled  in  the  history 
and  opinions  of  his  country.    Although  he  must  have 
been  conscious  of  all  this,   still  we  never  perceived 
the  least  effect  arising  from  it,  to  diminish  the  sim 
plicity,  and  ingenuousness  of  his  deportment.    He 
literally  knew  no  guile.     The  feelings  of  pride,  jeal 
ousy  and  suspicion  seem  never  to  have  entered   his 
heart.     He  would  listen  with  respect  and  confidence 
to   all,    however   humble   or  however  young,    who 
might  be  thrown  into  his  company.     In  his  manners 
and  in  his  feelings  he  carried   the  great  Christian 
doctrine,  that  we  are  all  of  one  blood,   brethren  of 
the  same  family,  children  of  the  same  parent,  heirs 
of  an  equal  inheritance,   into  the  most  perfect   de 
velopment.     He  looked  not  on  the  most  humble  as 
his  inferiors,  and  never  abased   himself  by  flattering 
the  most  exalted.     In  this  sense,  which  is  its  only 
legitimate  and  should  be  the  only  allowable   sense, 
he  was  the  most  thorough  republican,  with  whom  I 
have  ever  been  acquainted. 


13 

The  next  striking  attribute  of  his  character  was 
its  firmness.  For  this  he  is  known  and  distinguish 
ed  throughout  the  whole  nation.  When  his  mind 

o 

was  once  made  up  with  respect  to  the  course  mark 
ed  out  by  his  views  of  duty  and  principle,  there  was 
indeed  no  power  which  man  could  wield,  no  induce 
ment  which  this  earth  can  offer,  that  would  be  suf 
ficient  to  appal  or  to  allure  him  from  pursuing  it. 
There  was  a  noble  grandeur,  a  sublime  magnanim 
ity  in  his  character  in  this  respect,  which  all  have 
acknowledged    and    applauded.      And  those    who 
may  have  thought  proper  to  pursue  a  different  course, 
so  plain  was  it  that  he  was  governed,  not  by  pride 
or  pertinacity  of  opinion,  but  solely  by  his  consci 
entious  sense  of  duty,  even  they  have  ever  regarded 
his  firmness  with  lively  admiration  and  with  sincere 
respect.     This  attribute  of  his  character  naturally 
led  him  to  the  formation  of  the  most  fixed  and  de 
cided  opinions  of  men  and  things,  which  to  a  super 
ficial  observer  sometimes  assumed  the  appearance 
of  prejudice.     I  allude  to  this  because  it  affords  me 
an  opportunity  to  mention,  what  has  always  seemed 
to  me  the  most  extraordinary  point  in  his  admirable 
character.     He  was  not  a  prejudiced  man — he  was 
remarkably  free  from  prejudice.     The  nature  and 
the  evil  of  prejudice  is  that  it  discolors  the  whole 
moral  vision.     The  man  who  is  subject  to  it,  when 
he  has  conceived  a  dislike  to  a  particular  person,  on 
account  of  something  wrong  in  his  actions  or  charac 
ter,  is  rendered  unable  to  see  or  to  appreciate  what 
ever  there  may  be  in  him  that  is  good  and  praise 
worthy.     It  was  not  so  with  our  venerable  friend ; 
and  my  admiration  of  his  pure  and  upright  mind  never 


u 

rises  so  high,  as  when  I  remember  instances  in 
which  he  has  been  the  voluntary,  the  earnest  de 
fender  of  individuals,  towards  whom  he  has  enter 
tained  a  strong  feeling  of  disapprobation  for  real  or 
supposed  faults,  when  they  have  been  undeservedly 
assailed,  or  their  actual  excellencies  have  been  de 
nied.  He  was  disposed  to  do  justice  to  all  men. 
He  could  not  bear  to  sit  in  silence  when  manifest 
injustice  was  done  even  to  his  enemies. 

While  his  mind  was  thus  elevated  by  its  supreme 
love  of  justice,  above  the  reach  of  prejudice,  it  is 
true  that  he  entertained  the  most  fixed  and  decided 
opinions,  as  has  just  been  observed,  of  men  and 
things.  And  it  was  perfectly  natural  that  he  should. 
As  he  was  governed,  in  the  formation  of  those 
opinions  by  the  most  conscientious  principles,  it  was 
impossible  for  any  doubt  or  hesitancy  to  arise  from 
within  respecting  their  correctness  or  justice.  And 
every  one  who  has  witnessed  his  great  intellectual 
vigor,  as  it  appeared  in  his  unrivalled  conversation, 
and  in  the  unsurpassed  clearness,  purity  and  sim 
plicity  of  his  nervous  and  powerful  WTitings,  must 
immediately  have  perceived  that  his  apprehension 
of  character,  of  duty  and  of  truth,  could  not  have 
been  otherwise  than  strong  and  decided.  All  good 
and  great  men  have  entertained,  every  good  and 
great  man  must  necessarily  entertain,  fixed  and 
determined  views  and  opinions. 

He  was  a  most  active  man.  I  mean  by  this  that 
he  was  witling  and  anxious,  upon  principle,  to  fill  up 
as  high  as  he  could  the  measure  of  his  duty — to  be 
as  useful  as  his  faculties  and  his  circumstances 
would  enable  him  to  be.  He  felt  that  he  was  re- 


15 

sponsible  to  their  giver  for  the  use  of  his  powers, 
and  he  acted  upon  a  prevailing  sense  of  the  duty  of 
doing  all  that  he  could  do  for  the  improvement  and 
welfare  of  his  fellow  creatures,  while  he  remained 
among  them.  He  seemed  to  regard  this  as  the  con 
dition  upon  which  his  life  was  given  and  continued 
to  him.  The  great  variety  and  number  of  his  public 
services  and  social  employments  illustrate  his  love 
of  activity  and  his  disposition  to  be  useful.  It  must 
be  fresh  in  the  memory  of  us  all,  with  what  zeal  and 
energy  he  devoted  himself,  not  many  months  since, 
when  the  call  of  misery  reached  us  from  a  distant 
and  famishing  land,  to  the  compassionate  purpose  of 
providing  the  means  of  answering  that  call.  This 
was  the  last  great  service  which  he  rendered  to  his 
fellow  men,  and  it  was  a  fit  termination  of  a  life  of 
continued  active  beneficence.* 

He  was  remarkable  for  his  pure,  deep.,  unfailing 
love  of  truth.  On  every  subject  he  sought  to  attain 
to  it,  in  every  direction  he  pursued  it.  It  was  utter 
ed  in  all  that  he  spoke — it  shone  in  his  whole  life — 
it  prompted  to  every  act — it  was  written  in  his 
countenance — it  was  never  violated  at  his  hands. 

All,  whose  privilege  it  was  to  enjoy  an  intimate 

*  The  name  of  TIMOTHY  PICKERING  well  deserves  to  be  enrolled  among 
the  benefactors  of  the  suffering  people  of  Greece.  He  presided  at  a  meet 
ing  of  citizens,  convened  in  Salem,  at  his  request,  for  the  purpose  of  deliber 
ating  on  their  claims  to  compassionate  regard,  and  on  the  best  mode  of  con 
tributing  to  their  assistance — was  Chairman  of  the  Committee  of  Relief  then 
chosen — and  wrote  the  admirable  Address  which  was  circulated  by  that  Com 
mittee  throughout  the  County  of  Essex.  All  who  co-operated  with  him  in 
that  humane  movement,  take  pleasure  in  declaring  that  he  imparted  to  it  its 
life  and  energy,  and  that  the  sufferers  who  were  relieved  by  the  generous 
contributions  of  money,  food  and  clothing  then  made,  owe  to  him  pre-emi 
nently  their  gratitude.  He  was  at  this  time  83  years  of  age. 


16 

acquaintance  with  him,  will  ever  cherish  a  recol 
lection  of  the  gentleness  of  affection  and  tenderness 
of  sensibility  which  existed  in  a  rare  and  heautiful 
combination  with  the  sterner  features  of  his  inflexible 
character.  To  the  world  at  large  the  aspect  in 
which  he  was  chiefly  contemplated  may  have  been 
that  which  presented  to  view  his  energy  and  firmness, 
but  they  who  were  permitted  to  be  with  him,  in  those 
scenes  and  relations  in  which  the  heart  gives  way  to 
the  impulses  of  its  nature,  can  never  forget  exhibi 
tions  of  a  tenderness  of  soul,  which  the  rough  colli 
sions  of  life  could  not  harden,  of  a  sensibility,  which 
time  did  not  impair. 

But  I  must  hasten  to  present  to  you  the  character 
of  our  honored  friend  in  another  and  a  still  brighter 
light. 

He  was  a  religious  man.  He  was  a  devout  be 
liever  in  the  Christian  revelation.  This  was  the 
fountain  from  which  his  virtues  drew  their  strength, 
their  beauty,  and  their  grace.  He  was  not  only  a 
devout,  but  he  was  a  studious  Christian.  It  is  but 
seldom  that  you  will  meet  with  a  man,  even  of  that 
profession  of  which  the  Bible  is  the  text  book,  so 
thoroughly  and  minutely  acquainted  with  the  scrip 
tures  of  both  covenants.  His  knowledge  of  the 
sacred  writings  appeared  in  the  most  natural  and 
beautiful  illustrations  drawn,  in  the  course  of  free 
and  familiar  conversation,  from  every  part  of  the 
volume  that  contains  them.  And  it  was  impossible 
to  be  at  all  in  his  company,  without  discerning  how 
profoundly  and  how  frequently  he  must  have  medi 
tated  and  reflected  upon  the  doctrines  and  prospects 


17 

of  religion.*  All  who  have  worshipped  in  this 
assembly  must  have  noticed  with  what  constancy 
he  waited  upon  the  services  of  the  sanctuary — 
neither  distance,  nor  inclemency  of  the  weather  could 
detain  him  from  the  worship  of  the  Sabhath.  In 
this  respect  how  well  did  he  represent  his  pilgrim 
ancestors !  what  a  good  example  has  he  left  behind 
him  ! 

His  religious  opinions  were  in  harmony  with 
those  which  are  here  presented  and  entertained. 
He  was  led  to  them  by  the  deliberate  exercise  of 
his  mature  understanding,  and  he  recommended  and 
adorned  them  by  a  long  course  of  virtue  and  piety. 
They  were  at  all  times  a  source  of  consolation  to 
him5  they  shed  light  upon  his  path  in  life,  and  gave 
him  an  unfailing  support  and  refuge,  in  a  hope  that 
was  fixed  in  heaven.  They  imparted  to  him  calm 
ness,  faith,  and  peace  of  mind,  upon  the  bed  of  death. 
It  was  my  sorrowful  privilege  to  be  with  him,  for  a  few 
moments,  not  long  before  his  departure,  and  to  join 
with  him  in  a  service  of  devotion.  "  I  had  hoped," 
said  he,  "  to  live  a  little  longer,"  (for  a  purpose  which 
he  proceeded  to  mention  to  me),  "  I  had  hoped  to  live 
longer  5  but,"  he  continued,  directing  his  venerable 
countenance  upward,  "  I  bow  to  the  will  of  God,  I 
am  ready  and  willing  to  die." 


*  As  an  instance  of  his  familiarity  with  the  topics  of  religion,  and  his  skill 
in  the  scriptures,  the  writer  would  mention,  that  in  consequence  of  a  conver 
sation  which  he  happened  to  hold  with  his  venerable  friend,  not  many  weeks 
before  his  death,  on  the  question  "  How  are  the  dead  raised  up?  and  with 
zchat  body  do  they  come  ?"  he  received  from  him,  the  next  morning,  in  the 
form  of  a  commentary  on  the  passages  in  John  xx.  19,  20.  24.  26  and 
27,  which  had  been  adduced  during  the  discwssion  of  the  previous  evening, 
a  criticism  that  would  have  done  honor  to  a  professional  biblical  scholar. 

3 


IS 

Thus  lived,  and  thus  died,  our  beloved  and  vene 
rated  friend  and  fellow- worshipper.  While  the 
history  of  his  country  records  his  actions,  and  the 
hearts  of  his  countrymen  cherish  his  memory — let 
us,  my  friends,  all  strive  to  imitate  his  example,  to 
cultivate  his  virtues,  to  strengthen  ourselves  by  his 
principles — then  may  we  hope  like  him  to  leave  a 
character  behind  which  will  be  esteemed  by  all  who 
contemplate  it,  and  will  grow  brighter  with  truth 
and  time,  and  to  follow  him  to  those  rewards  which 
await  integrity,  purity,  benevolent  usefulness,  and 
piety,  in  a  better  world ;  for  our  text  assures  us, 
that  all,  who,  like  him,  walk  uprightly,  work  right 
eousness,  and  speak  the  truth  in  their  hearts,  shall 
abide  in  God's  tabernacle  and  dwell  in  his  holy 
hill. 


NOTICE  OF  THE  LIFE 

OF 

COLONEL    PICKERING. 


[The  following  notice  teas  published  in  the  Salem  Gazette  of  January  3CUA; 
a  fcio  particulars  have  been  added.] 

With  emotions  of  the  deepest  sorrow  we  have  this  day  the  painful 
duty  to  announce  the  decease  of  the  Great  and  Good  .Mem,  the  pure 
Patriot  and  illustrious  Statesman,  the 

HON.  TIMOTHY  PICKERING. 

He  departed  this  life  yesterday  morning,  after  a  sickness  of  a  few  days, 
in  the  84th  year  of  his  age,  and  has  thus  closed  a  long  and  brilliant 
course  of  patriotism,  integrity,  truth,  disinterestedness,  and  public  service. 

Though  he  has  died  as  full  of  years  as  of  honors,  the  departure  of  a 
character  so  much  celebrated,  respected  and  esteemed  by  the  public,  and 
so  much  beloved  and  admired  in  the  circle  of  private  friendship  and  do 
mestic  life,  will  create  no  ordinary  sensation  of  unfeigned  grief.  He 
has  left  no  one  of  his  associate  patriots  surviving,  except  the  illustrious 
and  venerable  John  Jay,  whose  life  is  so  much  identifiedtwith  the  whole 
of  our  national  history.  From  the  peace  of  1763  till  a  very  recent  period, 
he  was  a  zealous,  strenuous,  intrepid,  and  influential  actor  in  all  the  scenes 
and  vicissitudes  through  which  our  country  has  passed  ;  he  participated 
in  the  discussions  and  troubles  arising  from  the  Stamp  Act,  was  one  of 
the  most  ardent  and  zealous  Whigs,  and  when  the  Colonies  were  men 
aced  with  hostilites  from  the  mother  country,  he  was  the  foremost  and 
indefatigable  in  arousing  his  countrymen  to  resistance,  and  devo 
ted  his  time  and  exerted  his  influence  to  array  and  discipline  our  milita 
ry  forces  for  the  defence  of  our  liberties.  When  the  struggle  came  he 
shrank  not  from  the  encounter  ;  at  the  darkest  and  most  gloomy  crisis 
of  the  Revolution,  he  led  a  Regiment  of  Volunteers,  consisting  of  the 
flower  of  the  young  men  of  this  town,  to  reinforce  the  feeble  band  of 
Washington  in  the  Jerseys,  in  mid  winter,  when  the  army  was  without 
pay,  without  a  commissariat,  without  tents,  or  a  hospital.  The  discern 
ing  and  sagacious  eye  of  Washington  selected  him  for  an  honorable 
and  arduous  station  in  the  General  staff  of  the  Army;  he  shared  in  all 
the  scenes  of  hardship,  peril,  and  suffering  endured  by  our  patriot  for 
ces  till  the  Peace  of  1783.  His  constancy,  fortitude,  toils,  services,  en- 


20 

title  him  to  the  affection,  and  endear  him  to  the  memory  of  all  who  glo 
ry  in  our  Independence,  and  exultin  the  enjoyment  of  our  free  institutions 
and  Republican  liberty. 

Col.  Pickering  was  born  in  this  town,  on  the  17th  July,  1745,  and  was 
descended  from  a  respectable  family,  who  were  among  the  earliest  emi 
grants.  He  received  a  liberal  education  and  was  graduated  at  Harvard 
University  in  1763,  at  the  moment  when  the  Peace  between  Great  Brit 
ain  and  France  had  liberated  the  Colonies  from  a  harassing  war,  and 
left  them  at  leisure  to  investigate  and  ascertain  their  Rights  in  relation 
to  the  mother  country.  The  controversy,  that  soon  arose,  engrossed  his 
feelings,  and  enlisted  all  the  powerful  faculties^of  his  mind  on  the  side  of 
his  country.  He  soon  became  the  champion  and  leader  of  the  Whigs  in 
this  vicinity. 

The  disputes  between  Great  Britain  and  her  American  colonies  (which 
now  form  the  United  States)  commencing  with  the  Stamp  Act  in  1765,  and 
revived  in  1767,  by  the  act  of  parliament  for  raising  a  revenue  in  the  col 
onies,  gave  rise  to  two  parties,  which  at  length  were  distinguished  by 
the  names  of  Whig  and  Tory;  the  latter  acquiescing  in  British  claims  of 
taxation ;  the  former  resisting  them.  In  1767  the  Assembly  of  Massa 
chusetts  sent  a  circular  letter  to  the  speakers  of  the  other  Assemblies, 
for  the  purpose  of  promoting  the  adoption  of  uniform  measures,  (by  pe 
titions  and  remonstrances)  to  obtain  a  redress  of  grievances.  Most  of 
those  assemblies  concurred  with  that  of  Massachusetts.  In  1768,  a  let 
ter  from  Lord  Hillsborough  required  the  Assembly  of  Massachusetts  to 
rescind  the  vote  of  their  predecessors  for  sending  that  circular  letter. 
This  was  peremptorily  refused,  by  a  majority  of  92  to  17.  The  represen 
tatives  of  Salem,  Col.  PICKERING'S  native  town,  were  among  the  17. 
At  the  next  election,  they  were  neglected,  and  Whigs  chosen  in  their 
stead.  This  was  the  crisis  of  the  political  revolution  in  Salem.  Col.  P. 
was  then  four-and-twenty  years  old.  His  elder  and  only  brother,  the 
Hon.  John  Pickering,  was  chosen  one  of  the  representatives :  and  from  that 
time  he  was  himself  actively  engaged  in  all  the  Whig  measures  which 
were  preliminary  to  the  final  revolution  and  independence  of  the  colonies. 
Always  a  member  of  the  committees  of  inspection  and  correspondence, 
the  burthen  of  the  writing  rested  upon  him.  The  memory  of  one  of 
those  Documents,  characterized  by  the  most  magnanimous  and  gener 
ous  sentiments,  is  preserved  by  Dr.  Ramsay,  in  his  elegant  "History  of 
the  American  Revolution." 

When,  in  1774,  the  British  Parliament,  by  an  act  usually  called  the 
Boston  Port-Bill,  shut  up  the  capital  of  Massachusetts  from  the  sea, 
thereby  prostrating  its  active  and  extensive  commerce,  the  seat  of  the 
provincial  government  was  removed  from  Boston  to  Salem.  Sympa 
thizing  with  the  sufferers  of  Boston,  the  inhabitants  of  Salem,  in  full 
town-meeting,  voted  an  address  to  the  new  governor,  General  Gage, 


21 

the  great  object  of  which  was,  so  far  as  an  expression  of  their  sentiments 
would  go,  to  procure  relief  for  their  brethren  in  Boston.  That  ad 
dress  was  written  by  Col.  Pickering,  and  he  was  deputed  as  one  of  a 
Committee  to  present  it  in  person  to  Gov.  Gage.  Its  conclusion  Dr. 
Ramsay  has  justly  thought  worth  transcribing  on  the  page  of  history. 
It  here  follows  with  his  introductory  observation : — 

"  The  inhabitants  of  Salem,  in  an  address  to  Gov.  Gage,  concluded 
"with  these  remarkable  words — 'By  shutting  up  the  port  of  Boston, 
"  some  imagine  that  the  course  of  trade  might  be  turned  hither,  and  to 
"  our  benefit.  But  nature,  in  the  formation  of  our  harbor,  forbid  our  be- 
"  coming  rivals  in  commerce  with  that  convenient  mart ;  and  were  it 
"  otherwise,  we  must  be  dead  to  every  idea  of  justice,  lost  to  all  feel- 
"  ings  of  humanity,  could  we  indulge  one  thought  to  seize  on  wealth, 
"  and  raise  our  fortunes  on  the  ruins  of  our  suffering  neighbors." 

While  the  seat  of  government  remained  at  Salem,  Col.  P.  received 
a  note  from  the  secretary  of  the  province,  informing  him  that  the  gov 
ernor  wished  to  see  him  at  the  secretary's  house.  He  went,  and  was 
introduced  to  Gen.  Gage.  Taking  Col.  P.  into  another  room,  the  gener 
al  entered  into  conversation  on  the  state  of  things,  the  solemn  league 
and  covenant,  and  the  non-importation  agreements.  In  the  conclusion, 
the  general  said — "  Well,  there  are  merchants  who,  notwithstanding  all 
your  agreements,  will  import  British  Goods."  Col.  P.  answered — 
"  They  umay  import  them,  but  the  people  will  use  their  liberty  to  buy 
them  or  to  let  them  alone."  These  incidents  are  mentioned  as  evidences 
of  the  confidence  he  had  acquired  among  his  fellow-citizens,  from  an  early 
period  of  our  political  disputes  with  Great  Britain. 

Prior  to  the  war  he  was  elected  by  the  citizens  of  this  County 
Register  of  Deeds.  After  the  commencement  of  hostilities,  when 
Massachusetts  organized  a  provisional  government,  he  was  appointed  a 
Judge  of  the  Court  of  Common  Pleas,  and  also  Sole  Judge  of  the 
Maritime  Court  to  take  cognizance  of  Prize  causes,  pursuant  to  the 
resolutions  of  Congress,  for  the  middle  District,  comprehending  Bos 
ton,  Marble  head,  Salem,  and  other  ports  in  Essex.  Into  these  ports 
were  brought  most  of  the  Prizes  taken  by  the  armed  vessels  of  Mas 
sachusetts.  The  number  of  Prizes  while  he  held  the  office,  which 
was  until  he  joined  the  Army  under  Gen.  Washington's  immediate 
command,  amounted  to  about  one  hundred  and  fifty. 

On  the  19th  of  Apf  il,  1775,  was  the  battle  of  Lexington.  About  nine 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  Col.  Pickering  being  in  his  office,  (the  registry 
of  deeds  for  the  county  of  Essex)  a  captain  of  militia  from  the  adjacent 
town  of  Danvers,  came  in  and  informed  him  that  a  man  had  ridden  into 
that  town,  and  reported  that  the  British  troops  had  rnached  from  Bos 
ton  to  Lexington,  and  attacked  the  militia.  This  officer,  whose  com 
pany  belonged  to  Col.  P's  regiment,  asked  for  orders,  and  received  a 


22 

verbal  answer,  that  the  Danvers  company  should  march  without  waiting 
for  those  of  Salem. 

Immediately  Col.  P.  went  to  the  centre  of  the  town,  and  met  a  few  of 
the  principal  inhabitants.  A  short  consultation  ensued.  Those  who 
knew  the  distance  of  Lexington  from  Salem,  and  its  relative  situation  to 
Boston,  observed,  that  the  British  troops  would  certainly(have  returned  to 
Boston  long  before  the  Salem  militia  could  reach  the  scene  of  the  re 
ported  action ;  and  that  to  march  would  therefore  be  useless.  It  was  nev 
ertheless  concluded  to  assemble  the  militia,  and  commence  the  march  5 
and  for  this  sole  reason, — That  it  would  be  an  evidence  to  their  brethren 
in  the  counh-y,  of  their  disposition  to  co-operate  in  every  measure  which 
the  common  safety  required.  This  idea,  however,  of  the  fruitlessness  of 
their  march,  was  so  predominant,  that  they  halted  a  short  time,  when  a- 
bout  two  miles  from  the  town,  expecting  every  moment  intelligence 
that  the  British  troops  had  returned.  But  receiving  none,  they  resumed 
their  march,  and  proceeded  to  Medford,  which  was  about  five  miles 
from  Boston.  Here  Col.  P.  first  received  certain  information  that  the 
British  troops  were  still  on  their  march,  and  on  a  route  which  rendered 
it  possible  to  meet  them.  He  hastened  the  march  of  the  militia  on  the 
direct  road  to  Charlestown  and  Boston  ;  until,  on  an  elevated  part  of  the 
road,  the  smoke  was  seen  from  the  fire  of  a  small  number  of  militia  mus 
kets  discharged  at  a  distance,  at  the  British  troops.  He  halted  the 
companies,  and  ordered  them  to  load,  in  full  expectation  of  coming  to  an 
engagement.  At  that  moment  a  messenger  arrived  from  Gen.  Heath, 
who  informed  Col.  P.  that  the  British  troops  had  their  artillery  in  their 
rear,  and  could  not  be  approached  by  musketry  ;  and  that  the  general 
desired  to  see  him.  Leaving  the  companies  in  that  position,  he  went 
across  the  fields  and  met  Gen.  Heath.  They  soon  after  saw  the  Bri 
tish  troops  ascend  the  high  ground  called  Bunker's  hill.  It  was  about 
sunset.  The  next  day  they  entered  Boston. 

In  the  fall  of  1776,  the  army  under  Gen.  Washington's  command  be 
ing  greatly  reduced  in  numbers,  a  large  reinforcement  of  militia  was 
called  for  ;  5000  from  Massachusetts.  Col.  P.  took  the  command  of  the 
regiment  of  700  men  furnished  from  Essex.  When  the  orders  came,  he 
assembled  the  militia  in  the  First  Church  in  Salem,  harangued  them,  and 
exhorted  them  to  step  forward  in  defence  of  our  liberty  in  that  hour  of 
peril.  After  having  sent  round  the  drum  and  fife,  as  the  signal  for  vol 
unteers,  he  stepped  forward  as  the  first ;  his  patriotic  example  was 
quickly  followed  by  large  numbers.  The  quota  of  Salem  was  composed 
of  volunteers. 

This  tour  of  militia  duty  was  performed  in  the  winter  of  1776 — 7; 
terminating  at  Boundbrook,  in  New-Jersey  ;  Gen.  Washington's  head 
quarters  being  at  Morristown. 


23 

Soon  after  his  return  home,  Col.  P.  received  an  invitation  from  Gen, 
Washington  to  take  the  office  of  Adjutant- General.  This  he  accepted, 
and  joined  the  army  under  Washington's  command  at  Middlebrook,  in 
New-Jersey.  The  following  letter  was  addressed  to  the  President  of 
Congress  by  Gen.  W.  : — 

"  MORRISTOWN,  MAY  24,  1777. 

"  SIR,— I  beg  leave  to  inform  Congress,  that,  immediately  after  the  re 
ceipt  of  their  resolve  of  the  26th  of  March,  recommending  the  office  of  Ad 
jutant-General  to  be  filled  by  the  appointment  of  a  person  of  abilities  and 
unsuspected  attachment  to  our  cause,  I  wrote  to  Col.  Timothy  Pickering, 
of  Salem,  offering  him  the  post  in  the  first  instance,  and  transmitting  at 
the  same  time  a  letter  for  colonel  William  Lee,  whom  Congress  had  been 
pleased  to  mention,  to  be  delivered  him  in  case  my  offer  could  not  be  ac 
cepted.  This  conduct,  in  preference  of  colonel  Pickering,  I  was  indu 
ced  to  adopt  from  the  high  character  I  had  of  him,  both  as  a  great  mili 
tary  genius,  cultivated  by  an  industrious  attention  to  the  study  of  war, 
and  as  a  gentleman  of  liberal  education,  distinguished  zeal,  and  great 
method  and  activity  in  business.  This  character  of  him  I  had  from  gen 
tlemen  of  distinction  and  merit,  and  on  whose  judgment  I  could  rely. 

"  When  my  letter  reached  colonel  Pickering,  at  first  view  he  thought 
his  situation  in  respect  to  public  affairs  would  not  permit  him  to  accept 
the  post.  That  for  colonel  Lee  he  sent  immediately  to  him,  who  in  con 
sequence  of  it,  repaired  to  head-quarters.  By  Col.  Lee  I  received  a 
letter  from  colonel  Pickering,  stating  more  particularly  the  causes 
which  prevented  him  accepting  the  office  when  it  was  offered,  and  as 
suring  me  that  he  would  in  a  little  time  accommodate  his  affairs  in  such 
a  manner  as  to  come  into  any  military  post  in  which  he  might  be  ser 
viceable,  and  thought  equal  to. 

"  Here  I  am  to  mark  with  peculiar  satisfaction,  in  justice  to  colonel 
Lee,  who  has  deservedly  acquired  the  reputation  of  a  good  officer,  that 
he  expressed  a  distrust  of  his  abilities  to  fill  the  appointment  intended 
for  him  ;  and,  on  hearing  that  Colonel  Pickering  would  accept  it,  he  not 
only  offered  but  wished  to  relinquish  his  claim  to  it  in  favor  of  him, 
whom  he  declared  he  considered,  from  a  very  intimate  and  friendly  ac 
quaintance,  as  a  first  military  character  ;  and  that  he  knew  no  gentle 
man  better  or  so  well  qualified  for  the  post  among  us.  Matters  being 
thus  circumstanced,  and  colonel  Lee  pleased  with  the  command  he  was 
in,  I  wrote  to  colonel  Pickering  on  his  return,  who  accepted  the  office, 
and  is  daily  expected, 

"  In  this  business  I  beg  Congress  to  be  assured,  though  colonel  Lee 
was  postponed  in  the  first  instance,  their  recommendation  had  its  due 
weight ;  and  that  no  motive,  other  than  the  regard  to  service,  induced 
me  to  prefer  colonel  Pickering.  His  acknowledged  abilities  and  equal 
zeal — without  derogating  from  the  merits  of  colonel  Lee,  who  holds  a 


24, 

high  place  in  my  esteem — gave  him  preference  ;  and  I  flatter  myself 
the  cause  will  be  promoted  in  his  appointment,  especially  as  we  shall 
have  two  good  officers  in  lieu  of  one,  who,  I  am  persuaded,  will  do  honor 
to  themselves  in  the  line  in  which  they  move. 

"  I  have  the  honor  to  be,  &c. 

"GEORGE  WASHINGTON." 

Gen.  Howe  having  embarked  his  army  at  New-York,  to  proceed,  as  it 
was  understood  either  to  Delaware  or  Chesapeake  Bay,  Gen.  Washing 
ton's  army  marched  from  New-Jersey  to  the  State  of  Delaware  ;  and 
thence  into  the  adjacent  part  of  Pennsylvania,  to  oppose  the  British  ar 
my  then  marching  from  the  Head  of  Elk  for  Philadelphia.  On  the  llth 
of  Sept.,  the  battle  of  Brandywine  took  place.  After  carrying  Gen. 
Washington's  orders  to  a  general  officer  at  Chadsford,  Col.  P.  repaired 
to  the  right,  where  the  battle  commenced ;  and  remained  by  the  Gener 
al's  side  to  its  termination  at  the  close  of  the  day. 

On  the  4th  of  Oct.  Gen.  Washington  attacked  the  British  troops  at 
Germantown.  Col.  Pickering  was  in  the  field  during  the  action  at  this 
place. 

In  December,  1777,  the  army  marched  to  Valley  Forge,  and  took  up 
their  winter  quarters  in  log  huts  which  they  erected  at  that  place. 

Before  this,  the  Congress,  then  sitting  at  Yorktown,  in  Pennsylvania, 
had  elected  Col.  Pickering  a  member  of  the  Continental  Board  of  War. 
Gen.  Gates  and  Gen.  Mifflin  were  elected  members  of  the  same  board, 
and  before  the  expiration  of  the  winter,  they  all  repaired  to  Yorktown, 
where  the  board  sat.  In  this  station  Col.  Pickering  remained  until  Gen. 
Greene  resigned  the  office  of  Q,uarter-JMaster-General.  Very  unexpect 
edly,  that  office  was  proposed  to  him,  nf&  Roger  Sherman,  then  a  mem 
ber  of  Congress, — a  man  whose  name  in  the  annals  of  his  country  will 
descend  to  posterity  among  those  of  her  eminent  patriots  and  states 
men.  This  office  was  a  most  arduous  undertaking  ;  the  performance  of 
its  toilsome  and  embarrassing  duties  had  tasked  the  great  abilities  of 
Gen.  Greene  and  cost  his  feelings  the  most  painful  anxiety.  Col.  Pick 
ering  accepted  the  office  and  performed  the  duties  of  it  to  the  end  of 
the  war. 

The  project  of  besieging  the  city  of  New-York,  in  1781,  having  been 
relinquished,  and  the  siege  of  Yorktown,  in  Virginia,  resolved  on,  Col. 
P.  received  Gen.  Washington's  orders  to  prepare  immediately  for  the 
march  of  a  part  of  the  army  at  that  place,  and  for  the  transportation  of 
artillery,  and  of  all  the  stores  requisite  for  the  siege.  This  was  done. 
The  event  is  known  to  every  body.  Lord  Cornwallis  and  his  army  were 
made  prisoners.  This  decided  the  fate  of  the  war.  In  the  succeeding 
winter,  the  British  government,  despairing  of  conquest,  abandoned  all  of 
fensive  operations  in  America;  and  in  November,  1782,  articles  of  peace 
were  agreed  on. 


25 

When  the  Continental  Army  was  disbanded,  he  became  a  resident  in 
the  city  of  Philadelphia.  A  few  years  afterwards,  a  violent  controversy, 
threatening  bloodshed  and  civil  war,  arose  between  the  State  of  Penn 
sylvania  and  certain  emigrants  from  Connecticut,  who  claimed  and  had 
settled  an  extensive  tract  of  territory  in  the  "  Beautful  vale  of  Wyo 
ming."  Col.  Pickering  was  deputed  by  the  government  of  Pennsylvania 
to  adjust  and  compose  those  difficulties  ;  the  performance  of  the  trust 
was  attended  with  personal  hazard,  but  he  undertook  it  with  fearless 
ness.  A  daring  outrage  was  committed  on  his  person  in  that  country, 
the  details  of  which  are  interesting,  and  even  romantic.  The  following 
account  of  it  is  extracted  from  a  narrative,  written  by  himself  in  the 
year  1818,  at  the  solicitation  of  one  of  his  sons,  to  whom  it  was  address 
ed.  A  few  copies  of  it  were  then  printed  and  circulated  among  his 
friends. 

Col.  Pickering  in  that  narrative  says, — 

"  Such  was  the  state  of  things,  when  I  was  requested  by  several  of 
my  respectable  friends  in  Philadelphia,  where  I  then  resided,  to  accept 
of  a  mission  from  the  legislature  to  attempt  a  reconciliation  and  submis 
sion  of  the  Connecticut  settlers,  to  the  government  of  Pennsylvania.  It 
was  the  autumn  of  1786.  In  September  I  had  passed  through  their  set 
tlements,  on  my  way  with  a  surveyor  and  two  other  gentlemen  to  view 
that  body  of  lands  in  and  about  the  Great  Bend  of  the  Susquehanna,  in 
which  I  was  interested,  and  to  which  I  had  then  thought  of  removing — 
not  having  business  in  Philadelphia  to  maintain  my  family.  I  saw  the 
Starucca  tract,  and  there  I  had  contemplated  pitching  my  tent :  the 
same  tract  on  which  your  brother  Timothy  settled  in  1801. 

"  Having  received  some  information  of  the  mischievous  dispute  rela 
tive  to  the  Wyoming  lands,  I  embraced  every  opportunity,  while  pass 
ing  among  the  settlers,  to  learn  their  feelings,  and  ascertain  the  footing 
on  which  their  peaceable  submission  to  Pennsylvania  might  be  effected. 

"  On  my  return  home  to  Philadelphia,  Mr.  Wilson,  then  a  distinguish 
ed  lawyer  at  the  Philadelphia  bar,  and  afterwards  a  Judge  of  the  su 
preme  court  of  the  United  States,  called  to  see  me ;  and  he  dili 
gently  inquired  concerning  the  temper  and  desires  of  the  Connecticut 
settlers.  I  informed  him  that  they  were  entirely  satisfied  with  the  con 
stitution  of  Pennsylvania,  and  were  ready  to  submit  to  its  govern 
ment,  provided  they  could  be  quieted  in  possession  of  their  farms.  They 
had  settled  them,  they  said,  in  the  fullest  confidence  that  they  were  cov 
ered  by  the  charter  of  Connecticut :  they  had  made  very  valuable  im 
provements,  built  houses  and  barns,  and  raised  good  stock  of  cattle,  and 
an  abundance  of  the  necessaries  of  life — when  the  whole  were  laid 
waste  and  destroyed  by  the  common  enemy,  in  1778 — and  more  than 

4 


26 

all  these  things,  a  great  number*  of  their  brethren  had  perished  in  bat 
tle  :  That  from  these  calamities  they  had  not  recovered  :  they  were 
poor,  and  incapable  of  removing  and  seeking  new  settlements. 

"The  next  news  1  heard  on  this  subject,wasfrom  my  friend  Dr.  Rush. 
He  told  me  that  the  General  Assembly,  then  sitting  in  Philadelphia,  had 
just  passed  a  law,  erecting  the  Wyoming  settlement,  and  a  large  extent 
of  country  above  and  below  it,  into  a  new  county,  by  the  name  of  Lu- 
zerne  ;f  that  the  usual  county  offices  would  be  created,  all  of  which 
would  be  conferred  on  me,  if  I  would  accept  them.  That  being  a  New- 
England-man,  the  Connecticut  settlers  would  place  a  confidence  in  my 
information  and  advice,  which  they  would  be  inclined  to  withhold  from 
a  Pennsylvanian  ;  and  thus  I  might  be  the  happy  instrument  of  putting 
an  end  to  an  inveterate  and  disastrous  controversy. 

"  Mr.  Wilson  also  encouraged  and  advised  me  to  take  the  step  proposed 
by  Dr.  Rush.  And  after  taking  time  for  consideration,  1  informed  Mr. 
Wilson  that  I  would  engage  in  this  business,  provided  I  might  assure  the 
Connecticut  settlers  that  the  Legislature  would  quiet  them  in  their  posses 
sions.  I  particularly  asked  his  opinion  as  a  lawyer — as  I  also  did  that 
of  Myers  Fisher,  a  distinguished  lawyer  of  the  society  of  Quakers — 
"Whether  an  act  of  the  Legislature  would  be  competent  for  that  pur 
pose,  against  the  claims  of  Pennsylvania,  under  titles  of  the  same  lands, 
derived  from  the  proprietaries :  or  rather,  Whether  the  power  of  the  Le 
gislature  was  competent  to  enact  such  a  law."  Both  the  gentlemen  ans 
wered  in  the  affirmative — to  accomplish  a  very  great  public  good. 

"  With  this  understanding,  I  received  from  the  Executive,  appoint 
ments  to  various  county  offices  ;  and  an  act  of  the  Legislature  author 
ized  me  to  hold  elections  of  such  officers  for  the  county  as  were  in  the 
choice  of  the  people ;  and,  in  a  word,  to  organize  the  county. 

"The  first  object  was,  to  reconcile  the  Connecticut  settlers  to  the 
government  of  Pennsylvania.  For  this  purpose,  I  went  to  Wyoming, 
in  January,  1787 ;  called  meetings  of  them  in  their  villages,  announced 
the  erection  of  the  new  county,  by  which,  in  all  suits  at  law,  justice 
would  meet  them  at  their  own  doors  ;  and  in  jury  trials,  they  would  be 
safe  in  the  hands  of  their  peers,  their  neighbours, — instead  of  being 
dragged  a  great  distance  from  their  homes,  and  tried  by  Pennsylvani- 
ans,  adherents  of  Penn,  whom  they  deemed  hostile  to  their  equitable 


*  To  the  best  of  my  recollection,  they  told  me  that  the  number  of  their 
slain  and  that  died  of  their  wounds,  amounted  to  about  170. 

t  This  was  in  honor  of  the  Count  de  la  Luzerne,  who  had  been  the 
French  minister  to  the  United  States,  during  several  years  of  our  revolution 
ary  war. 


21 

rights.*  I  spent  a  month  among  them,  and  with  great  difficulty  suc 
ceeded,  on  the  ground  of  their  being  quieted  in  their  possessions  ;  as 
suring  them,  that  I  had  strong  reasons  to  express  the  opinion,  that  the 
Legislature  would  pass  a  law  for  that  purpose.  But  just  as  I  was  dos 
sing,  prosperously,  as  I  thought,  my  month's  labour,  a  pretty  shrewd 
man,  John  Jenkins,  a  major  of  their  militia,  the  second  f  leader  in  the 
county,  in  the  interests  of  the  Susquehanna  Company,  rose  and  said 
they  had  too  often  experienced  the  bad  faith  of  Pennsylvania,  to  place 
confidence  in  any  new  measure  of  its  Legislature ;  and  that  if  they 
should  enact  a  quieting  law,  they  would  repeal  it,  as  soon  as  the  Connec 
ticut  settlers  submitted,  and  were  completely  saddled  with  the  laws  of  the 
State.  This  was  prophetic — but  I  had  then  no  faith  in  the  prophecy.  A 
new  argument  then  occurred  to  me,  and  it  was  my  last.  I  rBtpaniaSB. 
that  whatever  might  have  been  the  conduct  of  Pennsylvania  in  times 
past,  I  was  perfectly  satisfied  that  now  she  was  amicably  disposed,  and 
sincerely  desirous  of  a  fair  accommodation ;  and  that  if  its  Legislature 
should  once  pass  a  law  to  quiet  them  in  their  possessions,  it  would  nev 
er  be  repealed.  And  to  give  them  the  strongest  evidence  in  my  power 
that  my  confidence  was  not  misplaced,  I  observed,  That  all  the  offices 
conferred  upon  me  were  of  small  value,  because  of  the  scanty  popula 
tion  of  the  county  ;  that  I  should  need  some  other  resource  to  maintain 
my  family,  such  as  the  product  of  a  farm :  that  I  would  therefore  pur 
chase  of  any  of  them  who  had  land  to  sell,  what  would  be  sufficient  for 
a  farm ;  that  in  doing  this  I  would  purchase  the  Connecticut  title  only, 
and  thus  place  myself  precisely  on  a  footing  with  them:  and  that  if,  as 
I  confidently  expected,  a  quieting  law  passed,  I  should  hold  the  land  ; 
if  not,  I  should  lose  it.  A  number  of  the  persons  present  (and  it  was  a 
public  meeting)  immediately  declared — They  could  ask  no  more.| 

*  These  they  called  Pennamitef—and  by  the  latter,  the  Connecticut  set 
tlers  were  called  Intruders  and  Yankees. 

i  The  first,  a  man,  able,  bold  and  energetic,  was  John  Franklin,  a  native  of 
Connecticut,  and  who,  at  this  time,  was  in  Connecticut,  consulting  with  the 
Susquehanna  Company  (or  its  active  members)  on  the  means  of  defeating  the 
pacific  measures  of  Pennsylvania  here  mentioned.  Such  are  my  impressions 
of  the  fact,  from  what  I  then  heard  ;  and  the  actual  state  of  things,  joined 
with  the  events  of  1787  and  1788,  warrants  the  conclusion. 

t  The  father  of  this  Major  Jenkins  had  been  a  leading  man,  and  one  of  the 
judges  of  the  county  court,  when  Connecticut  exercised  a  jurisdiction  over 
them.  He  had  died  before  I  ever  saw  that  country.  His  son,  Major  Jen 
kins,  had  called  to  converse  with  me,  at  my  lodgings,  some  days  prior  to  the 
occurrence  just  stated.  A  sensible  old  gentleman,  (Mr.  Stansbury,  then  a- 
bout  80  years  old,)  originally  from  New-Jersey,  but  who  had  long  resided 
at  Wyoming,  was  present  during  the  conversarion.  When  Jenkins  had  re- 


28 

"I  then  recommended  to  them  to  petition  the  Legislature,  which  was 
in  session  in  Philadelphia,  to  enact  a  law  to  quiet  them  in  their  posses 
sions.  They  requested  me  to  write  a  petition  for  tham.  I  did  so.  The 
great  body  of  the  settlers  signed  it.  I  carried  it  to  Philadelphia,  and 
presented  it  to  the  Legislature.  It  was  referred  to  a  committee,  who 
promptly  made  a  report  favourable  to  the  petitioners,  and  the  commit 
tee  were  directed  to  bring  in  a  bill  accordingly.  The  committee  put 
their  report  into  my  hands,  and  requested  me  to  draw  the  bill.  I  made 
a  draught,  which  was  necessarily  long,  to  provide  for  the  various  mat 
ters  incident  to  the  quieting  and  confirming  of  the  Connecticut  claims. 
The  principal  difficulty  arose  out  of  the  claims  of  a  considerable  number 
of  pepgiij?  who  had  received  grants  of  the  best  parts  of  the  same  tracts 
of  which" the  Connecticut  settlers  were  possessed — grants  made  prior 
to  the  revolution,  under  the  authority  of  the  Penn  proprietaries,  to  whom 
belonged  all  the  vacant  land  in  the  state,  as  heirs  to  Willam  Penn,  the 
original  patentee  of  the  whole  province.  If  the  lands  purchased  of  the 
proprietaries  were  to  be  taken  from  the  purchasers,  to  quiet  the  Con 
necticut  settlers,  justice  required  that  those  purchasers  should  receive 
an  equivalent.  If  at  any  time  the  state  of  Pennsylvania  had  been  pos 
sessed  of  adequate  funds,  those  purchasers  might  have  been  indemnified 
out  of  the  public  treasury  :  but  the  state  had  no  money,  and  the  state 
certificates  like  those  of  the  United  States,  were  then  worth  only  four 
or  five  shillings  in  the  pound.  It  was  in  the  power  of  the  state,  howev 
er,  to  give  a  complete  indemnity,  without  increasing  its  financial  bur 
thens.  There  were  some  millions  of  acres  of  new,  unappropriated  lands, 
of  which  the  Indian  title  had  three  years  before  been  extinguished. — 
These  were  at  the  disposal  of  the  state.*  I  therefore  introduced  into 

tired,  he  described  the  Major's  character,  as  crafty,  selfish  and  unprincipled, 
and  concluded  with  these  words,  slowly  and  emphatically  pronounced — "  and 
his  father  before  him  had  more  sense  than  honesty." 

*  I  think  it  was  about  the  year  1778,  that  the  Legislature  of  Pennsylvania, 
by  a  law  enacted  for  the  purpose,  stripped  the  heirs  of  William  Penn,  of  all 
the  vacant  lands  (probably  six  millions  of  acres)  in  the  state  ;  leaving 
them  only  a  few  tracts  of  unsettled  land,  called  Manors,  which  had  been  ac 
tually  located  and  surveyed ;  and  engaging  to  pay  them  only  one  hundred 
and  thirty  thousand  pounds  sterling  by  way  of  indemnity ;  when,  at  that  mo 
ment,  there  were  due  to  those  heirs,  about  five  hundred  thousand  pounds 
sterling,  for  lands  they  had  sold  to  the  inhabitants,  and  for  quit  rents.  The 
pretence  for  this  act  of  violence  against  the  just  rights  of  those  heirs,  was  (as 
stated  in  the  preamble  to  the  law)  that  so  large  a  property  in  the  hands  of  a 
few  individuals,  endangered  the  liberties  of  the  people.  But  the  principal 
heir  lived  in  England;  and  the  others,  John  and  Richard  Penn,  had  gone 
thither;  a  condition  of  retaining  their  estates  might  have  been,  their  not  re- 


29 

the  bill  a  section  to  provide  for  an  equitable  appraisement  of  the  tract 
claimed  by  the  Pennsylvanians,  in  the  Wyoming  territory  ;  and  in  lieu 
thereof,  authorizing  them  to  locate,  where  they  pleased  in  the  great 
body  of  vacant  lands,  such  qualities  as  would  be  equivalent  to  those  lost 
at  Wyoming ;  not  acre  for  acre,  but  value  for  value. 

"The  bill,  with  very  small  alterations,  was  enacted  into  a  law. — 
Commissioners,  of  whom  I  was  one,  were  appointed  to  examine  the 
claims  on  both  sides ;  those  of  the  Connecticut  settlers,  to  ascertain 
who  were  entitled  to  hold  by  the  terms  of  the  quieting  and  confirming 
law  ; — those  of  the  Pennsylvanians,  to  ascertain  the  quantity  and  ap 
praise  the  value  of  each  tract. 

"  Here  it  is  necessary  to  mention  the  rule  of  discrimination  prescribed 
by  the  confirming  law,  in  regard  to  the  Connecticut  settlers. 

"  The  decision  of  the  federal  court,  at  Trenton,  on  the  controversy  be 
tween  Pennsylvania  and  Connecticut,  was  made  on  the  30th  of  Decem 
ber,  1782,  in  the  words  following : 

*  This   cause  has  been  well  argued   by  the  learned  counsel  on  both 
sides.     The  court  are  now  to  pronounce  their  sentence  or  judgment.' 

'  We  are  unanimously  of  opinion,  that  the  state  of  Connecticut  has  no 
right  to  the  lands  in  controversy.' 

'We  are  also  unanimously  of  opinion,  that  the  jurisdiction  and 
pre-emption  of  all  the  territory  lying  within  the  charter  boundary  of 
Pennsylvania,  and  now  claimed  by  the  state  of  Connecticut,  do  of  right 
belong  to  the  state  of  Pennsylvania.'* 

"This  decision,  pursuant  to  the  articles  of  the  confederation  of  the 
states  was  final.  But  although  the  state-claim  of  Connecticut  was  thus 
forever  barred,  the  case  of  the  innocent  settlers  under  that  claim,  was 
entitled  to  commiseration  ;  and  I  early  understood  that  the  Judges  of 
the  Court  recommended  it  to  the  government  of  Pennsylvania,  to  make 
some  equitable  provision  for  their  relief— a  recommendation,  to  which 
that  government  paid  no  regard.  In  drawing  the  bill  for  the  confirm 
ing  law,  I  marked  the  line  between  the  settlers  prior  to  the  decree  of 
Trenton,  and  subsequent  settlers ;  the  former  entered  in  full  faith  of  the 
right  of  Connecticut;  the  latter  entered  with  their  eyes  open — with 
knowledge  that  the  competent  court  had  decided  that  Connecticut 
had  no  right :  the  former  only  were  to  be  quieted  in  their  possessions. 

"  The   Susquehanna  Company,  claiming  solely   under  the  state  of 

turning  to  America.  At  any  rate,  a  compromise,  bearing  even  a  distant  ap 
proach  to  an  equivalent,  might  have  been  adopted,  to  the  entire  satisfaction 
ofthePenns.  If  I  mistake  not,  the  conduct  of  the  Legislature  of  Maryland 
was  similar,  or  worse,  in  relation  to  the  heirs  of  Lord  Baltimore,  the  original 
proprietor  of  Maryland. 

*  Journals  of  the  old  Congress,  vol.  8,  pages  83,  84,    January  1783. 


30 


Connecticnt,  ought,  like  the  state,  to  have  abandoned  their  claim :  but 
defeated  at  law,  they  had  recourse  to  intrigue,  and  all  the  arts  of  dis 
ingenuous  and  cunning  men.  In  addition  to  the  actual  settlers  at  the 
time  of  the  decree,  they  invited  and  encouraged  emigrations  from  the 
states  eastward  of  Pennsylvania,  of  all  men  destitute  of  property,  who 
could  be  tempted  by  the  gratuitous  offer  of  lands;  on  the  single  condi 
tion  that  they  should  enter  upon  them  armed, — "  to  man  their  rights," 
in  the  cant  phrase  of  those  people.  These  emigrants  were  called  "  Half- 
share  men,"  and  were  to  have  each  half  of  a  share  in  a  township,  which 
I  believe,  was  160  or  200  acres  ;  a  whole  share  being  320  or  400  acres. 
By  this  management,  the  Susquehanna  Company  hoped  to  pour  in  such 
a  mass  of  young  and  able  bodied  men,  as  would  appear  formidable  to 
the  government  of  Pennsylvania ;  and  to  subdue  and  expel  whom, 
would  require  a  considerable  military  force,  to  be  raised  and  maintain 
ed  at  a  heavy  expense  of  treasure,  and  perhaps  of  blood;  and  that  to  a- 
void  the  evils  of  such  internal  war,  Pennsylvania  might  be  induced  to  a 
compromise  ;  not  merely  to  quiet  the  actual  settlers  prior  to  the  decree 
of  Trenton,  and  the  half-share  men  also,  but  to  permit  the  company  to 
take — if  not  their  whole  pretended  Indian  purchase,  120  miles  in  length, 
and  in  breadth  about  a  degree  of  latitude — yet  so  much  as  would  make 
all  the  members  rich.  Such  a  project,  to  be  accomplished  by  such 
desperate  and  flagitious  means,  it  might  be  expected  would  meet  no 
countenance  from,  much  less  be  the  very  offspring  of  men,  of  whom  some 
were  of  respectable  standing  in  Connecticut:  yet  such  was  the  fact: 
and  such  men,  with  their  associates,  were  the  authors  of  the  outrages 
committed  upon  me,  while  T  resided  at  Wyoming. 

In  May,  1787,  a  quorum  of  the  commissioners  met  at  Wyoming,  now 
Wilkesbarre,  and  gave  notice  of  the  mode  in  which  they  meant  to  pro 
ceed  in  examining  claims,  and  calling  on  the  people  to  prepare  the  re 
quisite  evidence  to  support  them,  to  be  presented  to  the  commissioners 
at  their  next  meeting.  This  next  meeting  took  place,  at  Wilkesbarre, 
in  August  or  September  following.*  Many  claims  were  then  present 
ed,  and  examined  ;  and  the  commissioners  were  proceeding  regularly, 
with  a  fair  prospect  of  completing  their  work,  in  a  reasonable  time  : 
when  they  were  interrupted,  and,  for  their  personal  safety,  obliged  to 
retire  from  the  county.  John  Franklin,  a  shrewd  and  resolute  man,  the 
prime  agent  of  the  Susquehanna  Company,  and  the  chosen  commander 
of  the  militia,  with  the  title  of  Colonel,  had  been  for  some  time  visiting 
all  the  settlements,  to  stir  up  the  people  to  an  open  and  forcible  opposi 
tion  to  the  government  of  Pennsylvania.  Evidence  of  these  practices 
having  been  communicated  (I  know  not  by  whom)  to  Chief  Justice 

*  I  moved  my  family  to  Wilkesbarre  in  July,  1787. 


31 

M'Kean,  he  issued  his  warrant  for  the  arrest  of  Franklin,  on  a  charge 
of  Treason  against  the  state.  The  sheriff  of  the  county  (for  it  had  been 
completely  organized,  under  the  authority  committed  to  me,  as  before 
mentioned)  chosen  by  the  people  (according  to  law  and  the  usage  of 
Pennsylvania)  and  living  among  them,  was  not  deemed  the  proper  per 
son  to  execute  the  warrant,  though  a  very  worthy  man  ;  but  who  either 
would  not  have  been  able  to  arrest  Franklin,  or  by  doing  it,  rendering 
himself  obnoxious  to  the  mass  of  turbulent  men,  might  be  in  too  great 
danger  of  their  vengeance.  The  Chief  Justice  therefore  directed  his 
warrant  to  four  gentlemen  of  known  fortitude,  two  or  three  of  whom 
had  been  officers  in  the  revolutionary  war.  On  their  arrival,  they  shew 
ed  me  the  Chief  Justice's  warrant.  Franklin  was  at  that  time  about  20 
or  25  miles  lower  down  the  river,  preparing  his  adherents  for  the  ex 
plosion.  In  three  or  four  days  he  came  up  to  Wilkesbarre.  The  four 
gentlemen  seized  him.  Two  of  their  horses  were  in  my  stable,  which 
were  sent  to  them,  but  soon  my  servant  returned  on  one  of  them, 
with  a  message  from  the  gentlemen,  that  people  were  assembling 
in  numbers  and  requesting  me  to  come  with  what  men  were  near 
me,  to  prevent  a  rescue.  I  took  loaded  pistols  in  my  hands  and 
went  with  another  servant  to  their  aid.  Just  as  I  met  them,  Frank 
lin  threw  himself  off  from  his  horse,  and  renewed  his  struggle 
with  them.  His  hair  was  dishevelled  and  face  bloody,  from  preceding 
efforts.  I  told  the  gentlemen  they  would  never  carry  him  off,  unless  his 
feet  were  tied  under  the  horse's  belly.  I  sent  for  a  cord.  The  gentle 
men  re-mounted  him,  and  my  servant  tied  his  feet.  Then,  one  taking 
his  bridle,  another  following  behind,  and  the  others  riding  one  on  each 
side,  they  whipped  up  his  horse,  and  were  soon  beyond  the  reach  of  his 
friends. 

But  this  open  aid  given  by  me  and  my  servants,  in  securing  Franklin, 
exposed  me  to  the  vengeful  resentment  of  his  adherents.  I  would  have 
avoided  this  step,  if  I  had  not  believed  the  welfare  of  the  good  people  of 
the  county  and  the  public  peace  depended  on  securing  the  person  of 
that  daring  man.  My  particular  friends,  discreet  men,  who  knew  infin 
itely  better  than  I,  the  character  of  his  adherents,  assured  me  they 
would  assemble,  and  retaliate  on  me  the  treatment  of  their  leader,  and 
probably  do  me  serious  bodily  harm  ;  and  advised  me  to  go  out  of  the 
way  and  secrete  myself,  until  the  fury  of  the  storm  should  pass  over. 
This  was  in  the  afternoon  of  the  2d  or  7th  of  October.  I  retired  to  a 
close  wood  not  far  from  the  house  I  occupied.  In  the  evening  I  return 
ed  to  my  family.  Some  of  the  well  disposed  neighbours  assembled  with 
their  arms.  The  rising  of  Franklin's  men  was  expected  from  the  oppo 
site  side  of  the  river.  I  desired  my  friends  to  place  sentinels  along  the 
bank,  where  they  might  discover  the  first  movements  for  crossing  the 
river  ;  and  then  sat  down  to  sup  with  my  family.  Before  I  had  finished 


32 

that  meal,  a  sentinel  came  in  haste  from  the  river,  and  informed  me  that 
Franklin's  adherents  were  crossing  in  boats.  My  house  was  within  a 
furlong  of  the  river.  I  took  up  a  loaded  pistol,  and  three  or  four  small 
biscuits,  and  retired  to  a  neigbouring  field.  Soon  the  yell  of  the  insur 
gents  apprised  me  of  their  arrival  at  my  house.  I  listened  to  their  nois 
es  a  full  half  hour  ;  when,  the  clamour  ceasing,  I  judged  that  the  few 
armed  neighbours,  who  had  previously  entered  and  fastened  the  doors, 
had  surrendered.  This  was  the  fact.  The  rioters  (as  I  afterwards 
learnt  from  your  mother)  searching  the  house  for  me,  and  for  conceal 
ed  arms,  if  any  there  were. 

"While  I  was  listening,  Griffith  Evans,  secretary  to  the  board  of  com 
missioners,  and  a  lodger  at  my  house,  retiring  from  it,  fortunately  taking 
the  same  course,  joined  me.  Believing  that  when  they  should  have 
searched  the  house  in  vain,  they  would  proceed  to  the  near  fields,  to 
find  me,  I  told  Mr.  Evans,  it  would  be  well  to  retire  still  farther.  When 
we  had  gained  the  side  of  Wilkesbarre  mountain,  we  laid  ourselves 
down,  and  got  some  sleep.  In  the  morning  I  descried,  at  the  distance  of 
a  mile,  or  more,  a  log  house,  which  was  on  alot  of  land  I  had  purchased, 
and  near  a  mile  from  the  village,  and  occupied  by  an  honest  German, 
whose  daughter  lived  with  your  mother,  as  a  maid.  I  proposed  to  Mr. 
Evans,  as  he  had  no  personal  injury  to  apprehend  from  the  rioters,  to  go 
to  the  log  house,  and  ask  the  German,  in  my  behalf,  to  go  down  to  my 
house,  (which,  as  his  daughter  was  there,  would  be  perfectly  natural) 
and  if  he  could  see  your  mother,  enquire  what  was  the  state  of  things, 
and  whether  I  could  return  with  safety.  Mr.  Evans  waited  his  return  ; 
and  then  brought  me  word,  from  your  mother,  that  I  must  remain  con 
cealed  ;  for  they  were  still  searching  for  me. — It  was  now  about  eleven 
o'clock.  I  told  Mr.  Evans,  that  as  I  could  not  return  to  Wilkesbarro, 
we  had  better  proceed  for  Philadelphia,  and  inform  the  Executive  of  the 
state  of  things  at  Wyoming.  He  readily  assented  ;  and  we  immediate 
ly  commenced  our  march.  It  was  through  pathless  woods  ;  and  we  had 
no  provisions  except  the  three  or  four  biscuits  I  had  put  in  my  pocket 
the  preceding  evening.  That  we  might,  not  get  lost,  I  proposed  turning 
short  to  our  left,  to  strike  the  road  leading  from  Wyoming  ;  and  thence 
take  our  departure  with  more  safety.  We  did  so  ;  and  then  again  dart 
ing  into  the  woods,  proceeded,  as  nearly  as  we  could  judge,  in  a  line 
parallel  to  the  road,  but  not  in  sight  of  it. — A  little  before  sun-setting, 
we  came  to  a  small  run  of  water,  which  I  supposed  to  be  the  "nine-mile 
run,"  being  at  that  distance  from  Wilkesbarre.  I  therefore  desired  Mr. 
Evans  to  go  cautiously  down  the  run,  till  he  should  strike  the  road 
which  crossed  it.  He  did  so  ;  it  was  not  far  off.  On  his  return,  we 
concluded  to  lie  down,  to  get  some  sleep  ;  intending  to  rise,  when  the 
moon  should  be  up,  at  about  two  the  next  morning,  and  prosecute  our 


33 

journey.  About  two  miles  from  the  nine-mile  run,  was  Bear  Creek,  a 
stream  perhaps  40  or  50  feet  wide,  and  without  a  bridge.  Having 
several  times  travelled  that  road,  I  knew  when  we  approached  it. 
There  I  thought  it  probable  the  insurgents  had  posted  a  small  guard  to 
intercept  me,  leaving  their  main  guard  at  a  deserted  cabin  four  miles 
back.  Mr.  Evans  proposed  to  advance  alone,  to  reconnoitre  ;  and  if  he 
discovered  there  any  armed  men,  to  halloo,  that  I  might  escape  into  the 
woods.  I  told  him  that  was  impracticable  ;  fatigued,  and  destitute  of 
provisions,  I  could  not  fly  ;  that  each  of  us  had  a  loaded  pistol ;  that  I 
presumed  the  guard  at  the  Creek  would  not  exceed  three  men  ;  that  if 
they  attempted  to  take  us,  we  must  each  kill  his  man,  when  the  third 
would  be  glad  to  escape.  With  this  determination,  we  proceeded. 
The  Creek  was  not  guarded  ;  we  forded  it,  and  then  marched  at  our 
ease.  In  the  morning,  we  reached  the  first  inhabited  house,  about  25 
miles  from  Wilkesbarre.  Here  we  were  refreshed  with  a  comfortable 
breakfast,  and  then  we  went  on  our  way.  Having  travelled  some  miles 
farther,  we  came  to  some  farmers'  houses,  where  we  hired  horses  ;  and 
then  continued  our  journey  to  Philadelphia. 

"  On  my  return  to  Wilkesbarre,  I  was  informed  that  the  arrangement 
of  the  guards,  to  intercept  me,  was  precisely  as  I  had  conjectured.  A 
subaltern's  command  marched  to  Bear  Creek,  where  they  waited  till 
night,  when  they  returned  to  the  cabin  ;  concluding  that  I  had  reached 
the  Creek  before  them. 

"  The  insurgents,  soon  brought  to  reflection,  and  deprived  of  the  coun 
sel  and  direction  of  their  leader,  Franklin,  began  to  relent,  and  sent  a 
petition  to  the  executive  council,*  acknowledging  their  offence,  and 
praying  for.a  pardon.  This  was  readily  granted  ;  and  Colonel  Denison, 
the  Luzerne  Counsellor,  went  up  with  the  pardon.  It  was  natural  to  in 
fer  from  this,  that  I  might  return  in  safety  to  my  family.  I  proceeded  ac 
cordingly  :  but  when  within  25  miles,  I  sent,  by  a  servant  who  was  with 
me,  a  letter  to  your  mother,  desiring  her  to  consult  some  of  the  discreet 
neighbours,  who  were  my  friends,  relative  to  my  return.  She  did  so. 
They  were  of  opinion,  that  I  could  not  return  with  safety  at  present.  So 
I  went  back  to  Philadelphia. 

"  In  September,  1787,  the  Convention  of  Delegates  from  the  several 
states,  to  form  a  Constitution  for  the  United  States,  which  had  been  sit 
ting  several  months  in  Philadelphia,  concluded  their  labours.  They 
recommended  that  the  Constitution  should  be  submitted  to  a  Convention 


*  The  first  constitution  of  Pennsylvania  was  then  in  force.  It  vested  the 
executive  power  in  the  Supreme  Executive  Council,  consisting  of  a  President, 
Vice  President,  and  one  Counsellor  from  each  county.  The  legislative  pow 
er  was  vested  in  a  single  body,  called  the  General  Assembly. 

5 


34 

of  Delegates  to  be  chosen  in  each  state  by  the  people  thereof,  under  the 
recommendation  of  its  legislature,  for  their  assent  and  ratification.  Such 
a  convention  being  called  by  the  Legislature  of  Pennsylvania,  the  people 
ofLuzerne  county  chose  ME  their  delegate,  to  represent  them  in  it !  This 
convention  assembled  in  Philadelphia  (where  I  still  remained)  I  think 
early  in  December.  After  a  great  deal  of  discussion,  the  convention 
assented  to  and  ratified  the  Constitution.  It  was  engrossed  on  parch 
ment,  and  received  the  signatures  of  nearly  all  the  Delegates,  includ 
ing  the  opposers  while  under  discussion,  with  the  exception  of  some 
three  or  four  obstinate  men,  and,  to  the  best  of  my  recollection  of  their 
characters,  as  ignorant  as  obstinate.  The  opposers  of  its  adoption  were 
the  extra-republicans,  or  democrats — the  same  sort  of  men  who  after 
wards  were  called  anti-federalists,  and  who  uniformly  opposed  all  the 
leading  measures  of  the  federal  administration  of  the  general  govern 
ment. 

"  I  could  now  no  longer  doubt  that  I  might  return  to'Wyoming.  I  ar 
rived  there  the  beginning  of  January,  1788. 

"  Franklin  remained  in  jail,  at  Philadelphia.  This  put  a  stop,  for  a 
short  time,  to  the  unwarrantable  measures  of  the  Susquehanna  Compa 
ny  ;  and  damped  the  zeal  of  their  partisans  at  Wyoming.  Next  to  his 
confinement,  they  seemed  to  have  thought  my  influence  in  the  county 
was  most  adverse  to  their  schemes.  How  to  get  rid  of  me  was  the 
question.  I  presume  it  engaged  their  attention  for  some  months.  In 
the  spring  of  1788,  as  early  I  think  as  April,  there  were  indications  of 
some  plot  against  me  ;  and  then,  or  soon  after,  it  was  menacingly  inti 
mated  to  me  by  Major  Jenkins,  (I  doubt  not  in  pursuance  of  instructions 
from  the  Susquehanna  Company)  in  the  hope,  probably,  so  to  alarm,  as 
to  induce  me  voluntarily  to  quit  the  country.  In  this  they  were  disap 
pointed.  I  felt  no  inclination  to  abandon  my  farm  and  buildings,  which 
had  cost  me  more  money  than  I  could  again  command, — nor  to  relin 
quish  the  cause  in  which  I  had  engaged  ;  so  I  pursued  ray  occupations, 
as  usual. 

"  By  the  month  of  June,  the  indications  of  some  sort  of  an  attack  upon 
me,  became  more  apparent.  To  guard  against  it,  by  shutting  myself  up 
in  my  house,  would  have  been  fruitless  ;  because,  if  determined  to  ar 
rest  me,  my  house  was  not  strong  enough  to  exclude  them.  Besides, 
if  I  must  abandon  my  business,  I  might  as  well  abandon  ijj£  uiillllTji  I 
therefore  remained  at  my  post.  "*/ 

"On  the  26th  of  June,  at  about  11  at  night,  when  your  mother  and  I 
were  asleep,  and  your  brother  Edward,  nine  months  old,  was  lying  on 
my  arm,  I  was  awakened  by  a  violent  opening  of  the  door  of  the  room. 
"  Who's  there  ?"  I  asked  :  "  Get  up,"  was  the  answer.  "  Don't  strike," 
said  I,  "  I  have  an  infant  on  my  arm." — I  had  no  doubt  that  the  intruders 
were  ruffians  come  to  execute  the  long  menaced  attack. 


35 

I  rolled  Edward  from  my  arm,  rose,  and  put  on  my  clothes.  Your 
mother  slipped  out  of  the  other  side  of  the  bed  ;  and  putting  on  some 
clothes,  went  to  the  kitchen,  and  soon  returned  with  a  lighted  candle. 
Then  we  saw  the  room  filled  with  men  armed  with  guns  and  hatchets, 
having  their  faces  blacked,  and  handkerchiefs  tied  round  their  heads. 
Their  first  act  was  to  pinion  me ;  tying  my  arms  together  with  a  cord, 
above  my  elbows,  and  crossed  over  my  back.  To  the  middle  of  this 
cord  they  tied  another,  long  enough  for  one  of  them  to  take  hold  of,  to 
prerent  my  escaping  from  them.  They  told  me  it  would  be  well  to 
take  a  blanket  or  outer  garment,  for  I  should  be  along  time  in  a  situa 
tion  where  I  should  want  it.*  I  desired  your  mother  to  get  me  an  old 
surtout,  which  was  in  the  chamber.f  She  quickly  returned,  and  I  re 
ceived  it  on  one  of  my  arms.  They  then  led  me  off,  and  hastened 
through  the  village  of  Wilkesbarre,  in  perfect  silence.  Having  travel 
led  a  couple  of  miles,  they  halted  a  few  minutes.  Then  resuming  their 
march,  proceeded  to  Pittstown,  ten  or  eleven  miles  up  the  river  from 
Wilkesbarre.  Here  they  stopped  at  a  tavern  and  called  for  whiskey — 
offering  some  to  me,  which  I  did  not  accept ;  I  drank  some  water. 

"  In  twenty  minutes,  they  left  this  house,  and  pursued  their  march. — 
There  were  about  fifteen  of  them — arranged  in  my  front,  my  rear,  and 
on  both  flanks.  We  were  in  the  darkness  and  stillness  of  night.  As 
we  proceeded,  one  of  the  ruffians  at  my  side  thus  accosted  me — "Now 
if  you  will  only  write  two  or  three  lines  to  the  Executive  Council,  they 
will  discharge  Colonel  Franklin,  and  then  we  will  release  you."  In 
stantly  I  answered — "  The  executive  Council  better  understand  their 
duty,  than  to  discharge  a  traitor  to  procure  the  release  of  an  innocent 
man,"  "Damn  him,  (exclaimed  a  voice  before  me)  why  don't  you 
tomahawk  him  ?"  This  wrath  of  the  ruffian  was  excited  by  the  word 
"  traitor,"  applied  to  their  old  leader,  Franklin.  No  more  words  were 
uttered  on  this  subject. 

We  soon  reached  the  river  Lachawannack,  about  two  miles  from  the 
tavern.  After  searching  a  little  while,  they  found  a  canoe,  in  which 
some  of  them  passed  over.  On  its  return  I  stepped  in,  with  the  others  of 

*  When  I  stepped  out  of  bed,  the  first  garment  I  took  up  was  a  coat,  in  a 
pocket  of  which  was  a  packet  of  letters  which  I  had  written  to  one  or  more 
of  jny  acquaintances,  members  of  congress,  (then  sitting  at  New-York)  de 
tailing  the  conduct  and  characters  of  some  of  the  leaders  in  the  nefarious 
measures  of  the  Susquehanna  Company ;  which  letters  Mr.  Andrew  Elicot, 
then  at  Wilkesbarre,  and  who  was  to  set  off  for  Philadelphia  the  next  morn 
ing,  was  to  take  with  him.  I  dropped  the  coat,  and  felt  for  a  pair  of  fustian 
trowsers,  and  fustain  jacket  with  sleeves.  These  I  put  on — and  my  shoes. 

t  Your  mother  afterwards  informed  me  that  one  of  the  ruffians  followed 
her  to  the  chamber,  and  threatened  to  tomahawk  her,  if  she  made  any  noise. 


36 

the  gang.  The  water  was  low,  and  the  canoe  touched  the  bottom, 
before  we  reached  the  shore.  I  was  going  to  step  out  and  wade  to  the 
shore.  "Stop" — said  one  of  them,  who  had  a  pack  at  his  back.  He 
waded  to  the  shore — laid  down  his  pack — returned  to  the  side  of  the 
canoe,  and  carried  me  on  his  back  to  the  shore ! 

"  Proceeding  upwards,  we  in  a  little  while  came  to  a  ferry.  The  day 
had  dawned.  They  crossed  over  in  a  scow  (a  large  flat-bottomed  boat) 
to  the  western  side  of  the  Susquehanna ;  and  we  continued  our  march, 
on  the  shore  of  the  river,  for  an  hour  or  two ;  then  struck  into  the  woods, 
and  pursued  the  course  upwards,  out  of  sight  of  the  river.  About  four 
in  the  afternoon,  they  arrived  at  a  log  house  near  the  bank  of  the  river 
about  thirty  miles  above  Wilkesbarre.  Here  they  had  victuals  cooked, 
and  I  ate  with  a  good  appetite  ;  having  fasted  since  I  was  taken  the 
preceding  night. 

"  Seeing  a  bed  in  the  room,  I  laid  myself  down  upon  it.  I  do  not  re 
collect  when  they  unpinioned  me.  I  had  lain  but  a  little  while,  when 
a  man  arrived  in  a  boat  from  Jacob's  Plains,  a  small  settlement  about 
two  miles  and  a  half  above  Wilkesbarre.  I  knew  the  man.  The  ruf 
fians  (supposing  that  I  was  asleep)  inquired  with  eagerness,  what  was 
the  news  below ;  and  whether  the  militia  had  turned  out  to  pursue 
them.  He  answered  in  the  affirmative. — I  immediately  saw  that  I 
should  not  be  suffered  to  keep  my  place  on  the  bed.  In  a  few  min 
utes,  one  of  them  came  to  the  bed  side  and  said  "  get  up."  I  rose,  and 
they  took  "me  directly  back  from  the  river,  a  quarter  of  a  mile  ;  and 
behind  a  rising  ground  they  rested  for  the  night.  Tt  thundered  ; 
and  a  heavy  rain  soon  wet  us  to  the  skin.  At  day-light  one  of  the 
crew  went  to  the  house  :  and  finding  all  quiet,  he  returned,  and  we  all 
went  thither.  The  drying  of  our  clothes,  and  eating  breakfast,  employ 
ed  us  till  about  ten  o'clock.  Standing  with  them  on  the  bank  of  the 
river,  I  observed  a  man  on  the  other  side,  leading  a  horse.  It  was  on 
the  shore  of  the  river.  Being  near  sighted,  I  did  not  know  him.  But 
one  of  them  exclaimed — "There  goes  Major  Jenkins,  now, — a  damned 
stinking  son  of  a  bitch."  By  this  courteous  observation  on  the  second 
man  of  the  party,  and  the  first  in  Franklin's  absence,  it  was  apparent, 
that  after  encouraging  and  engaging  them  in  the  diabolical  outrage 
upon  me  he  had  deserted  them.  He,  in  fact,  kept  on  his  route,  went 
into  the  state  of  New- York,  and  there,  being  a  land  surveyor,  found 
employment,  during  the  residue  of  the  season,  and  until  tranquillity  was 
finally  restored  to  the  county. 

"By  this  time,  the  blacking  had  disappeared  from  the  faces  of  the 
ruffians ;  when  I  found  two  of  them  to  be  sons  of  one  Dudley,  a  carpen 
ter,  and  a  near  neighbour  at  Wilkesbarre.  The  others  were  all  before 
unknown  to  me. 

"  They  now  prepared  to  cross  over  to  the  eastern  side  of  the  Susque- 


37 

hanna.  Gideon  Dudley  came  up  to  me  with  a  pair  of  handcuffs,  with 
which  to  manacle  me.  To  this  I  objected,  as  they  were  going-  to  cross 
the  river  in  a  small  canoe,  and  I  desired  to  have  a  chance  of  saving  my 
life  by  swimming,  if  it  should  overset.  At  this  moment  Mr.  Earl 
(whom  I  had  not  known,  but  who  was  father  to  two  of  the  party)  inter 
posed — telling  Dudley  that  there  was  no  danger  of  an  escape,  and  ad 
vising  him  not  to  put  the  irons  upon  me.  He  accordingly  forebore.— 
We  crossed  the  river  ;  and  they  pursued  their  march.  In  an  hour,  they 
halted  ;  the  leader  of  the  band  selected  four,  and  bid  the  rest  go  on — 
With  these  four  and  me,  he  darted  directly  into  the  woods.  This  ex 
cited  some  apprehension  in  me,  of  personal  mischief;  especially  as  one 
of  them,  by  the  name  of  Cacly,  sustained,  as  I  understood,  a  very  bad 
character.  The  leader  of  this  band  was  a  hunter,  and  had  his  rifle 
gun  witli  him.  As  we  proceeded  a  fawn  was  started,  and  as  he  bounded 
along,  the  hunter  shot  him,  and  in  five  minutes  had  his  skin  off,  and  the 
carcase  slung  on  his  back.  At  the  distance  of  three  or  four  miles  from 
the  river,  they  halted,  close  by  a  very  small  run  of  water.  A  fire  being 
quickly  kindled,  they  began  to  cook  some  of  the  venison.  The  hunter 
took  his  first  cut.  They  sharpened  small  sticks,  at  both  ends,  running 
one  into  a  slice  of  the  fawn,  and  setting  the  other  end  into  the  ground, 
the  top  of  the  stick  bearing  so  near  the  fire  as  to  broil  the  flesh.  Being 
hungry,  I  borrowed  one  of  their  knives,  and  followed  their  example. — 
I  observed  the  hunter  tending  his  steak  with  great  nicety  ;  and  sprink 
ling  it  with  a  little  salt.  As  soon  as  it  was  done,  he  with  a  very  good 
grace,  presented  it  to  me  ! 

"Before  night,  they  cut  down  some  limbs  of  trees,  and  formed  a  slight 
booth,  to  shelter  us  from  the  dew.  One  of  them  taking  post  as  a  senti 
nel,  we  lay  down  on  the  ground  :  my  pillow  was  a  stone. — In  this  situa 
tion  we  remained  about  a  week.  At  first,  they  had  some  good  salt 
pork,  and  wheaten  bread  that  lasted  two  or  three  days  ;  after  which 
they  got  Indian  meal,  which  they  made  into  cakes,  or  fried,  as  pancakes, 
in  the  fat  of  the  pork.  Of  the  pork  they  were  very  sparing  ;  frying  only 
two  or  three  small  slices  at  a  time,  and  cutting  them  up  in  the  pan. 
Such  was  our  breakfast,  dinner  and  supper  :  my  share  did  not  exceed 
five  mouthfuls  of  pork  at  each  meal.*  They  fared  better — sopping  up, 
with  their  bread  or  cakes,  all  the  fat  in  the  pan,  of  which  I  felt  no  in 
clination  to  participate. — It  was  here  I  told  them  they  would  repent  of 
their  doings  ;  and  instead  of  being  supported  by  four  hundred  men  in 
the  county,  as  they  had  professed  to  believe,  that  they  would  be  aban 
doned  to  their  fate. 


*  Yet  1  never  felt  more  alert  and  vigorous  in  my  life  ;  which  I   ascribed  to 
my  necessary  extreme  temperance. 


38 

"From  this  station  they  marched  a  few  miles,  and  took  another,  in  a 
narrow  valley,  a  sequestered  place,  and  about  two  or  three  miles  from 
the  Susquehanna.  We  had  no  sooner  halted,  than  they  came  to  me 
with  a  chain  five  or  six  feet  long-,  having  at  one  end  a  band  like  the 
bands  of  horse-fetters.  Col.  Franklin,  they  said,  had  been  put  in  irons, 
in  the  Philadelphia  jail,  and  they  must  put  irons  on  me,  although  it  was 
not  agreeable  to  them  to  do  it ;  "  but  their  great  men  required  it." 
Satisfied  that  it  would  be  in  vain  to  remonstrate,  I  was  silent.  They 
fixed  the  band  of  the  chain  round  my  ankle,  securing  it  with  a  flat  key, 
which  they  twisted,  to  prevent  its  being  got  off  without  a  tool  to  un 
twist  the  key.  The  other  end  of  the  chain  they  fastened  by  a  staple  to 
a  tree.  In  this  situation  I  remained  an  hour  or  more  ;  and  they  employed 
themselves  in  forming  a  booth  with  the  boughs  of  trees. — This  chain,  be 
sides  its  conformity  with  the  orders  of  their  "great  men,"  saved  my  gen 
tlemen  from  the  burthen  of  mounting  guard  every  night.  When  we  lay 
down,  they  placed  me  in  the  middle,  and  one  of  them  wrapped  the  chain 
round  one  of  his  legs  ;  so  that  I  could  not  rise  to  attempt  an  escape, 
without  waking  him  up.  But  I  determined  not  to  make  the  attempt — 
for  T  soon  considered  that  my  life  was  not  in  danger  ;  and  I  expected 
them  to  grow  weary  of  their  enterprise  :  so  I  patiently  endured  present 
affliction.  Besides,  if  I  escaped  they  could  take  me  again,  unless  I 
quitted  the  county  ;  which  was  the  precise  object  of  the  outrage — to 
get  rid  of  me. 

We  had  been  in  this  valley  but  two  or  three  days,  when,  one  morn 
ing,  whilst  all  my  guard  were  fast  asleep,  I  heard  a  brisk  firing  of  mus- 
quetry.  It  was  a  skirmish,  I  had  no  doubt,  between  the  "  Boys"  (as 
these  fellows  called  their  party)  and  the  militia,  who  had  come  from  be 
low  to  discover  them,  and  rescue  me.  But  I  let  them  sleep  on  ;  nor  did 
I  tell  them  of  the  firing,  after  they  awoke.  After  breakfast,  one  of 
them  went  down  to  a  house  by  the  river,  in  their  interest,  and  returned 
in  haste,  to  tell  his  comrades  that  the  "  Boys"  and  militia  had  met,  and 
that  in  the  battle,  captain  Ross,  who  commanded  the  militia,  was  mor 
tally  wounded.*  At  the  close  of  this,  or  the  next  day,  they  marched 
down  to  the  river,  and  sought  for  a  canoe  to  cross  over  to  the  western 
side  ;  but  could  find  none.  We  were  now  at  Black- Walnut  Bottom, 
about  44  miles  above  Wilkesbarre.  Thus  disappointed,  they  marched 
back  into  the  woods,  and  we  lay  down  for  the  night.  The  next  day} 
towards  evening,  they  went  again  to  the  river,  and  crossed  it.  It  was 
so  dark,  that  at  the  distance  of  thirty  or  forty  yards,  we  might  pass  un 
seen.  They  passed  through  a  thick  wood  to  the  house  of  one  Kilborn, 
father  to  two  of  the  party.  There  we  lodged.  The  next  morning  they 

*  He  was  badly  wounded,  but  recovered.  Gideon  Dudley  received  from 
the  militia  a  ball  through  his  hand. 


pushed  back  into  the  woods,  about  four  miles  from  the  river.  This  was 
the  third  and  last  station.  This  changing  from  place  to  place,  was 
to  prevent  their  being  discovered  by  the  militia,  who  came  from  below, 
at  different  time,  to  find  them. 

"On  the  15th  of  July,  Gideon  Dudley  (who  now  appeared  to  have  the 
command)  with  two  others,  came  out  to  our  station.  It  was  late  in  the 
afternoon.  After  lounging  about  for  some  time,  as  if  they  did  not  know 
what  to  do  with  themselves,  they  approached  me  ;  and  Dudley  asked — 
"  Don't  you  wish  to  be  set  at  liberty  ?" — "  To  be  sure  I  do" — was  my 
answer.  After  a  little  pause,  Dudley  again  accosted  me — "What  will 
you  do  for  us  if  we  will  set  you  at  liberty  ?" — "  What  do  you  wish  me 
to  do  for  you  ?"  was  my  reply.  "  Will  you  intercede  for  Colonel  Frank 
lin's  pardon  ?" — "  No,  I  will  not."  This  answer  was  evidently  unex 
pected  ;  they  were  confounded  ;  and  retiring,  they  for  sonic  time  laid 
their  heads  together.  Then  again  coming  near,  one  of  them  asked — 
"  Will  you  intercede  for  our  pardon  ?" — After  a  momentary  pause,  I 
answered — "  While  I  have  been  in  your  hands,  you  have  told  me  of 
your  '  Great  Men,'  and  that  you  have  been  acting  in  obedience  to  their 
orders.  By  them  you  have  been  misled  and  deceived.  Give  me  their 
names,  and  I  have  no  doubt  of  obtaining  your  pardon." — This  they  could 
not  do,  they  said,  without  going  down  to  their  Head-Quarters,  and  con 
sulting  the  main  body  ;  and  turned  on  their  heels  to  depart — "Stop,"  said 
I,  "  and  knock  oif  this  chain."  They  instantly  took  off  the  chain,  that 
I  had  carried  about  for  ten  days. 

"  I  lay  down  with  my  guard  that  night,  not  doubting  of  my  speedy 
release.  As  soon  as  it  was  light,  I  rose,  put  the  fire-brands  together 
(in  the  woods,  a  fire  is  generally  kept  up  at  night  even  in  the  warmest 
weather) ;  mixed  up  some  of  their  miserable  coarse  Indian  meal  for 
cakes,  spread  the  dough  on  pieces  of  hemlock  bark  (the  usual  trenchers) 
and  set  them  to  the  fire.  As  soon  as  it  was  light  enough  to  see  our 
green  tea,  I  went  to  gather  it.  This  was  the  winter  green,  bearing  red 
berries,  which  went  by  the  name  of  partridge  berries.  Infused  in  boil 
ing  water,  the  winter  green  makes  a  tolerable  warm  beverage.* 

By  thise  time  rny  guard  were  awake,  the  tea  was  boiled  and  the  cakes 
were  baked.  I  told  them  that  expecting  to  be  released,  I  had  risen  and  got 
the  breakfast  ready,  in  order  to'gain  time  ;  for  if  released,  I  had  a  par- 

*  They  once  asked  me  if  I  should  like  a  dish  of  coffee.  "  A  dish  of  coffee 
by  all  means,"  I  answered.  They  went  to  work.  Boiling  water  in  their 
iron  pot,  to  make  it  clean,  then  emptying  it,  they  set  it  over  to  heat.  They 
next  strewed  into  it  some  Indian  meal  ;  and  when  this  was  roasted,  they 
poured  in  water  ;  and  as  soon  as  it  was  boiled,  the  coffee  was  made.  It  was 
an  agreeable  change  for  our  green  tea. 


40 

ti'cular  desire  to  reach  home  the  next  day.f  I  then  proposed  that  we 
should  go  to  their  head-quarters,  without  delay  ;  where,  if  released,  it 
would  be  well ;  if  not,  I  would  come  back  with  them  again  into  the 
woods.  They  readily  assented — took  up  their  kettle  and  frying-pan — 
(our  kitchen  furniture)  and  down  we  marched.  When  arrived  near 
to  their  head  quarters,  they  halted.  One  went  to  announce  our  arrival. 
Two  or  three  came  out,  Gideon  Dudley  at  their  head — when  he  put  to 
me  the  original  question,  "Will  you  intercede  for  Colonel  Franklin's 
pardon?"  "I  will  answer  no  question  till  I  am  set  at  liberty,"  was  my 
return.  They  conducted  me  into  Kilborn's  house. 

"It  was  now  the  16th  of  July.  Nineteen  days  had  passed  away, 
while  I  had  been  their  prisoner.  Having  no  razor,  nor  a  second  shirt, 
I  had  neither  shaved  nor  changed  my  linen  during  that  whole  time. — 
They  had  told  me,  if  I  desired  clothing  or  any  thing  else  from  home,  and  I 
would  write  for  them,  they  should  be  brought  to  me.  I  accordingly 
wrote  to  your  mother  for  clothing — and  for  a  book.  She  sent  them  up 
as  directed,  and  they  arrived  at  Zebulon  Marcy's  at  Tunkhannock  ; 
and  there  I  found  them,  after  I  was  released.  The  shirt  I  wore  from 
home,  I  repeatedly  took  off,  and  washed  as  well  as  I  could,  in  cold  water 
and  without  soap. 

"  As  soon  as  I  entered  Kilborn's  house,  they  brought  me  a  razor  and 
soap  to  shave,  and  a  clean  shirt,  and  pair  of  stockings ;  and  told  me  I 
was  at  liberty.  They  roasted  some  chickens,  and  gave  me  as  good  a 
dinner  as  the  poor  wretches  could  furnish. 

"  While  dinner  was  preparing,  they  renewed  their  request,  that  I 
would  intercede  for  Franklin's  pardon.  This  I  again  peremptorily  re 
fused  to  do.  Then  they  made  the  same  request  for  themselves ;  and  I 
again  told  them  that  I  could  venture  to  assure  them  of  pardons,  if  they 
would  give  me  the  mames  of  their  "  Great  Men"  who  had  instigated 
them  to  commit  the  outrage  I  had  endured  at  their  hands.  They  con 
sulted  together  for  some  time  ;  and  finally  told  me  they  could  not  give 
up  their  names.  "  This  (I  said  to  them)  is  a  very  unwise  determination. 
Here  are  two-and-twenty  of  you  (I  had  counted  them)  who  may  all  ob 
tain  pardon,  if  you  will  give  me  the  names  of  your  employers  ;  and  a- 
mong  so  many,  some  one  at  least,  to  save  himself,  will  turn  states's  ev 
idence;  you  had  better  therefore  give  me  the  names  of  the  men  who 
have  engaged  you  in  this  wicked  business."  "Whoever  does  it  (said 
Gideon  Dudley)  ought  to  go  to  hell,  and  be  damned  everlastingly.'' 

"  They  then  made  a  last  request,  that  I  would  write  a  petition  for 
them  to  the  Executive  Council  praying  for  pardons,  and  carrying  it 

f  It  would  be  the  17th  of  July — iiiy  birth  day. 


41 

with  me  to  Wilkesbarre,  take  an  opportunity  to  send  it  to  Philadelphia. 
With  this,  undeserving  as  they  were,  I  complied. 

"  It  was  now  late  in  the  afternoon  ;  and  unless  I  went  to  Tunkhan- 
nock  (distant  twelve  miles)  that  night,  I  could  not  reach  home  the  next 
day.  They  had  a  good  boat  in  which  they  carried  me  down.  It  was 
dark  when  they  landed.  I  had  only  set  my  foot  on  shore,  when  the  two 
Earls  came  to  me,  aside,  and  offered  to  become  evidences  for  the  state 
upon  an  assurance  of  pardon.  This  I  ventured  to  give  them  :  but  the 
rogues,  when  brought  before  the  court,  divulged  none  of  the  names  of 
their  "great  men;"  and  reluctantly  furnished  any  evidence  against 
their  companions. 

"  Walking  from  the  landing  place  about  a  mile,  across  the  Tunkhan- 
nock  bottom  land,  we  arrived  at  the  house  of  Zebulon  Marcy,  to  get 
supper  and  lodging.  There  I  found  the  bundle  of  clothing  which  your 
mother  had  sent  up  for  me  ;  and  there,  also,  I  found  an  inhabitant  of 
Pittstown,  going  down  the  river  as  far  as  Lachawonnock  Creek.*  And 
Tuttle,  one  of  the  "  Boys,"  said  he  would  go  down  with  us,  and  take 
his  chance.  The  next  morning,  we  three  set  off  in  a  canoe.  Landing 
the  man  destined  for  Lachawonnock,  the  other  went  on  with  me  to 
Wilkesbarre.  On  the  way,  he  told  me  that  he  had  joined  the  "  Boys" 
but  two  or  three  days  before,  in  order  to  discover  where  I  was,  and  get 
me  rescued  out  of  their  hands. 

"  Stepping  ashore  at  Wilkesbarre,  I  walked  directly  to  our  house. 
You  were  standing  at  the  front  door.  As  I  drew  near,  you  looked  a 
moment — appeared  frightened — and  retired.  Before  I  reached  the 
door,  your  mother  came  with  Edward  in  her  arms.  Consternation 
marked  her  countenance — as  if  I  had  been  an  apparition.  My  return  so 
soon  was  wholly  unexpected  ;  and  she  looked  at  me  as  if  to  satisfy  her 
self  of  the  reality. 

"  Without  waiting  the  result  of  their  petition  to  the  Executive  Coun 
cil,  most  of  the  actual  perpetrators  of  the  outrage  upon  me,  fled  to  the 
northward,  to  escape  into  the  state  of  New- York.  On  their  way,  as 
they  reached  Wysocks  creek,  they  encountered  a  party  of  militia,  un 
der  the  command  of  Captain  Roswell  Franklin,  and  exchanged  some 
shots.  Joseph  Dudley  was  very  badly  wounded.  The  others  escaped. 
Dudley  was  put  into  a  canoe,  and  brought  down  to  Wilkesbarre,  a  dis 
tance  of  perhaps  60  or  70  miles.  The  doctor  who  was  sent  for,  had  no 
medicine.  I  had  a  small  box  of  medicines  which  had  been  put  up  un 
der  the  care  of  my  good  friend  Dr.  Rush.  Of  these,  upon  applica 
tion  of  the  physician,  I  furnished  all  he  desired.  But  Dudley  survived 
only  two  or  three  days.  On  his  death,  his  friends  sent  to  your  mother, 
to  beg  a  winding  sheet — which  she  gave  them. 

*  Small  rivers  are,  in  Pennsyvania,  called  Creeks. 


42 

"  In  the  autumn,  a  court  of  Oyer  and  Termintr  was  held  at  Wilkes- 
barre,  by  M'Kean,  Chief-Justice,  and  Judge  Rush.  A  number  of  the 
villains  had  been  arrested — were  tried  and  convicted — fined  and  imprison 
ed  in  different  sums,  and  for  different  lengths  of  time,  according  to  the  ag 
gravation  of  their  offence.  The  poor  creatures  had  no  money  to  pay 
their  fines,  and  the  new  jail  at  Wilkesbarre  was  so  insufficient,  that  all 
of  them  made  their  escape  excepting  Stephen  Jenkins,  brother  to  Maj. 
John  Jenkins.  Stephen  was  not  in  arms  with  the  party  ;  but  was  con 
cerned  in  the  plot.  He  might  have  escaped  from  the  jail  with  the 
others ;  but  chose  to  stay ;  and  in  consequence  received  a  pardon,  after 
about  two  months  confinement. 

"  The  fate  of  Captain  Roswell  Franklin,  a  worthy  man,  whom  I  have 
mentioned  on  the  preceding  page,  I  sincerely  commiserated.  Weari 
ed  with  the  disorders  and  uncertain  state  of  things  at  Wyoming,  he 
removed  with  his  family  into  the  state  of  New- York,  and  sat  down  on  a 
piece  of  land  to  which  he  had  no  title.  Others  had  done  the  same. — 
T  he  country  was  new,  and  without  inhabitants.  They  cleared  land, 
and  raised  crops,  to  subsist  their  families  and  stock.  In  two  or  three 
years,  when  all  their  crops  were  harvested,  their  hay  and  grain  in  stack, 
and  they  anticipated  passing  the  approaching  winter  comfortably,  Gov. 
George  Clinton  sent  orders  to  the  sheriff"  of  the  nearest  county,  to  raise 
the  militia,  and  to  drive  off  the  untitled  occupants.  These  orders  were 
as  severely,  as  promptly,  executed  ;  and  the  houses  and  crops  all  burnt. 
Reduced  to  despair,  Captain  Franklin  shot  himself.  This,  as  well  as  I 
recollect  was  in  the  autumn  of  1792. 

"Governor  Clinton  was  distinguished  for  energy  of  character.  Had 
like  prompt  and  decisive  measures  been  taken  at  the  beginning,  with  the 
Connecticut  settlers  at  Wyoming,  it  would  have  been  happy  for  them 
and  for  Pennsylvania ;  the  actual  sufferers  would  have  been  few  in 
number:  but  the  unstable,  and  generally  feeble  measures  of  that  gov 
ernment,  instead  of  intimidating,  rather  encouraged  hardy  men,  desti 
tute  of  property,  to  become  intruders ;  and  thus,  eventually,  a  great 
many  families  were  involved  in  calamities. 

"  John  Franklin,  so  often  mentioned,  having  been  indicted  on  the 
charge  of  treason,  for  which  he  had  been  arrested,  remained  a  good 
while  in  jail.  At  length  he  was  liberated,  on  giving  bond,  with  a  large 
penalty,  And  finally  all  opposition  to  the  government,  in  Luzerne  coun 
ty,  ceasing,  he  was  fully  discharged.  The  people  of  the  county,  after 
wards  chose  him  to  represent  them  in  the  state  legislature,  where,  in 
the  house  of  representatives,  he  sat,  I  believe,  for  several  years.  Dur 
ing  this  period,  chance,  once  or  twice,  threw  him  in  my  way.  He  was 
very  civil,  and  I  returned  his  civilities." 

In  1790  Col.  P.  was  elected  a  Delegate  to  the  Convention  of  the  State 
of  Pennsylvania,  for  the  purpose  of  revising  the  Constitution  of  that  State, 
in  which  he  was  associated  with  many  eminent  men,  among  whom  were 


43 

Thomas  Mifflin,  Thomas  M'Kean,  William  Lewis,  James  Ross,  Albert 
Gallatin,  and  Samuel  Sitgreaves.  At  the  instance  of  Col.  Pickering, 
the  following  wise  and  benevolent  provision  was  made  an  article  of  the 
Constitution  : — 

"  The  Legislature  shall,  as  soon  as  conveniently  may  be,  provide  by 
law  for  the  establishment  of  Schools  throughout  the  State,  in  such 
manner  that  the  poor  may  be  taught  gratis." 

From  the  year  1790  to  1794,  Col.  Pickering  was  charged,  by  Gen. 
Washington,  (then  President  of  the  United  States)  with  several  nego- 
ciations  with  the  Indian  nations  on  our  frontiers :  In  1793,  in  a  joint 
commission  with  Gen.  Lincoln  and  Beverly  Randolph,  Esq.  of  Vir 
ginia,  to  treat  of  peace  with  the  western  Indians:  And  in  1794,  he  was 
appointed  the  sole  agent  to  adjust  all  our  disputes  with  the  six  nations  ; 
which  were  terminated  by  a  satisfactory  treaty. 

In  the  year  1791,  General  Washington  appointed  him  * Post-Master 
General.  In  this  office  he  continued  until  the  close  of  the  year  1794; 
when,  on  the  resignation  of  Gen  Knox,  he  was  appointed  Secretary  of 
War.  In  August  1795,  Mr.  Edmund  Randolph  having  resigned  the  of 
fice  of  Secretary  of  State,  General  Washington  gave  Col.  P.  the  tem 
porary  charge  of  that  department  also.  Some  time  before  the  meeting 
of  Congress,  which  was  in  December  following,  he  also  tendered  to 
Col.  Pickering  the  office  of  Secretary  of  State,  which,  from  unaffected 
diffidence  he  at  first  declined.  But  as  soon  as  Congress  assembled, 
without  speaking  to  Col.  P.  again,  Washington  nominated  him  to  the 
Senate  to  be  Secretary  of  State  :  and  the  Senate  approved  the  nomina 
tion.  He  continued  in  this  office  until  May,  1800 ;  when  he  was  re 
moved  by  the  late  President  Adams,  and  was  succeeded  by  John  Mar 
shall,  the  present  Chief  Justice  of  the  United  States,  then  and  ever 
since  his  friend  and  correspondent. 

At  the  close  of  year  1801,  Col.  Pickering  returned  to  live  in  Massa 
chusetts.  In  1803,  the  Legislature  appointed  him  a  Senator  to  repre 
sent  the  State  in  Congress,  for  the  residue  of  the  term  of  Dwight  Fos 
ter,  Esq.  who  had  resigned.  In  1805,  the  Legislature  again  elected 
him  a  Senator,  and  for  the  term  of  six  years. 

Being  in  debt  for  new  lands  purchased  some  years  before  in  the  Mid 
dle  and  Western  states,  and  by  the  appreciation  of  which  he  had  hoped 
to  make  eventual  provision  for  his  children ;  and  having  no  other  re 
sources — as  soon  as  he  was  removed  from  office,  in  1800,  he  carried  his 
family  from  Philadelphia  into  the  country  ;  and  with  one  of  his  sons 
went  into  the  back  woods  of  Pennsylvania,  the  Wyoming  country,  where, 
with  the  aid  of  some  labourers,  they  cleared  a  few  acres  of  land,  sowed 
wheat,  and  built  a  log  hut,  into  which  he  meant  the  next  year  to  remove 
his  family.  From  this  condition  he  was  drawn  by  the  kindness  of  his 
friends  in  Massachuietts. — By  the  spontaneous  liberalty  of  those  friends 


44 


in  taking  a  transfer  of  new  lands  in  exchange  for  money,  Col  Pickering 
was  enabled  to  pay  his  debts,  return  to  his  native  state,  and  finally  to  pur 
chase  a  small  farm  in  this  County,  on  which  he  lived  many  years,  culti 
vating  it  with  his  own  hands,  and  literally  with  the  sweat  of  his  brow. 

Col.  P.  continued  to  sustain  the  office  of  a  Senator  in  Congress  till 
1811,  when  he  devoted  himself  entirely  to  the  labours  of  agriculture. — 
Soon  after  he  was  chosen  by  the  Legislature  of  this  state  a  member  of 
the  Executive  Council,  and,  during  the  late  war,  when  apprehensions 
were  entertained  that  the  enemy  contemplated  assailing  our  towns  and 
cities,  he  was  chosen  a  member  of  the  Board  of  War  for  the  defence  of 
the  State.  In  1814  he  was  chosen  a  Representative  in  Congress,  and 
held  his  seat  till  March,  1817. 

In  his  retirement  he  enjoyed  the  respect  and  esteem  of  his  contempo 
raries  ;  his  devotion  to  his  favorite  rural  pursuits,  his  extensive  corres 
pondence  with  eminent  and  worthy  men  in  various  parts  of  our  country, 
his  love  of  literature  and  science,  and  his  zeal  in  promotion  of  the  inter 
ests  of  our  best  institutions,  furnished  his  mind  with  active  employment. 

The  activity  of  his  life,  and  the  magnitude  and  variety  of  his  public 
labors,  left  him  little  leisure  for  solitary  and  continued  application  to  the 
pursuits  of  science  and  literature;  he  made  no  pretensions  to  either; — 
yet  few  public  men  possessed  knowledge  so  various  and  extensive.  The 
productions  of  his  pen  bear  testimony  to  his  ability,  power,  elegance, 
and  vigor  as  a  writer.  The  charms  and  the  variety  of  his  powers  in 
conversation  were  unrivalled,  and  made  him  a  favorite  of  the  social  cir 
cle.  The  grave  and  the  gay,  the  aged  and  the  young,  were  delighted 
with  his  colloquial  eloquence,  and  instructed  by  his  wisdom. 

In  public  life  he  was  distinguished  for  energy,  fidelity,  firmness, 
promptitude,  perseverance,  and  disinterestedness.  The  many  arduous 
and  honorable  offices  he  filled  were  in  no  instance  sought  by  him,  but 
were  conferred  on  him  solely  for  his  fitness  and  ability  to  discharge  the 
duties  of  them  to  the  advantage  of  the  public. 

Of  his  private  virtues  there  is  no  difference  of  opinion.  All  men  of 
all  parties  speak  of  them  with  admiration.  This  voluntary  homage  has 
been  paid  to  his  character  amid  all  the  vicissitudes  of  party.  In  all  the 
private  relations  of  life  he  was  honest,  faithful,  and  humane.  No  man 
ever  impeached  his  integrity  with  any  color  of  justice.  Love  of  Truth, 
and  Integrity  that  could  not  be  shaken,  were  his  characteristics. 
"Where  Truth  led  the  way,  he  did  not  fear  to  follow."  His  man 
ners  were  plain  and  simple,  his  morals  pure  and  unblemished,  and  his 
belief  and  profession  of  the  Christian  Religion  were,  through  a  long 
life,  accompanied  with  practice  and  conduct  in  accordance  with  its  di 
vine  precepts. 

During  the  past  year  he  had  been  employed  in  preparations  for  writ 
ing  the  Life  of  Alexander  Hamilton,  a  task  he  was  eminently  qualified 
to  execute,  as  well  by  the  intimacy  of  the  friendship  that  long  existed 


45 

between  them,  as  from  his  familiar  and  personal  knowledge  of  and  par 
ticipation  in  the  events  and  measures  to  which  it  related.  If  his  life 
had  been  prolonged,  it  cannot  be  doubted  that  he  would  have  reared  a 
monument  to  the  memory  of  that  eminent  Statesman,  worthy  of  the 
brilliant  reputation  of  his  fellow  soldier  during  the  war  for  indepen 
dence,  and  his  colleague  in  the  cabinet  of  Washington.  But  the  wing 
of  ruthless  Time  has  swept  away  "both  the  poet  and  the  song." 

The  following  notice  of  the  early  conduct  of  Col.  Pickering  in  the 
Revolution,  is  taken  from  the  new  and  improved  edition  of  Dr.  Holmes* 
Annals,  a  standard  work  in  American  History : — 

"  On  the  26th  of  February,  [1775]  Gen.  Gage,  having  received  intel 
ligence  that  some  military  stores  were  deposited  in  Salem,  despatched 
Lieut.  Col.  Leslie  from  Castle  William,  with  140  soldiers,  in  a  transport, 
to  seize  them.  Having  landed  at  Marblehead,  they  passed  on  to  the 
draw-bridge  leading  to  Danvers,  where  a  large  number  of  people  had 
assembled,  and  on  the  opposite  side  of  which  Col.  Pickering  had  mus 
tered  thirty  or  forty  men,  and  drawn  up  the  bridge.  Leslie  ordered 
them  to  let  it  down ;  but  they  peremptorily  refused,  declaring  it  to  be  a 
private  road,  by  which  he  had  no  authority  to  demand  a  pass.  On  this 
refusal  he  determined  to  ferry  over  a  few  men  in  a  gondola  which  lay 
on  the  bank ;  but  the  people,  perceiving  the  intention,  instantly  sprang 
into  the  gondola,  and  scuttled  it  with  their  axes.  There  was  danger  of 
instant  hostility ;  but  the  prudent  interposition  of  Mr.  Barnard,  minister 
of  Salem,  and  other  persons,  prevented  that  extremity.  To  moderate 
the  ardour  of  the  soldiery,  the  folly  of  opposing  such  numbers  was 
stated  ;  and  to  moderate  the  ardour  of  the  citizens,  that,  at  so  late  an 
hour,  the  meditated  object  of  the  British  troops  was  impracticable.  The 
bridge  was  at  length  let  down  ;  Leslie  passed  it,  and  marched  about  30 
rods;  and  the  evening  being  now  advanced,  he  returned,  and  embarked 
for  Boston.  Some  particulars  of  this  transaction  are  taken  from  the 
MSS.  of  President  Stiles ;  where  he  farther  writes,  that  the  British  sol 
diers  pricked  the  people  with  their  bayonets  ;  that  Leslie  kept  his  troops 
at  the  bridge  an  hour  and  a  half;  that  he  at  length  pledged  his  honor, 
that,  if  they  would  let  down  the  bridge,  he  would  march  but  thirteen 
rods  over  it,  and  return  without  doing  any  thing  farther  ;  that  the  line 
was  marked  ;  and  that  Col.  Pickering,  with  his  forty  brave  men,  like 
Leonidas  at  Thermopylae,  faced  the  King's  troops."  He  had  been  cho 
sen  Colonel  of  the  Salem  Regiment  of  Minute  Men,  on  the  13th  of  the 
same  month  in  which  this  occurrence  happened. 


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